


The Marked One

by CelestialSeaWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Covens, Drama, F/M, Gods, Pagan Gods, Paganism, Rituals, Romance, coven - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialSeaWitch/pseuds/CelestialSeaWitch
Summary: It was never smart to gain the attention of the gods. On the first Halloween following the end of the war, Hermione Granger learns this lesson the hard way. Locked in an alternate reality by an unknown god and marked with his symbol upon her forehead, Hermione must navigate this new world full of god worship and ritual magic, unlike anything she's ever seen before. Jamione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 454
Kudos: 626





	1. Prologue: The Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: sex, swearing, mentions of torture, mentions of sacrifice, age difference, Hermione is barely of-age, forced marriage.

# 

#  The Gods

Working on Halloween was always a risky business in the magical world. Magical forces were stronger on that day than any other Wiccan holiday. Poltergeists grew more powerful. Dark rituals were more potent. Most establishments in the Wizarding World remained closed on Halloween. Keeping one’s door open was a sure-fire way to invite all kinds of magical troubles into one’s life on All Hallows’ Eve. 

For an Unspeakable, Halloween was the ultimate holiday. It was a rule of thumb for any Unspeakable to not even enter the Department of Mysteries on such a magically powerful day. Whereas most would assume that Unspeakables would like to take advantage of such magical potency in the air for whatever magical experiments they seemed to concoct on an average day, a seasoned Unspeakable knew that the magic at work on Halloween was too powerful to be properly harnessed in ritual. On Halloween, magical gods took charge once again. 

It was never smart to gain the attention of the gods.

A tall, willowy woman glided across the floor as she exited out of the Hall of Time and into the atrium of the Department of Mysteries. Her long, white hair touched her heels as she floated across the room in nearly translucent fabrics. She was the Goddess of the Stars and Moon, Vega. “I’m bored,” she complained.

“There’s a party three worlds over,” a little girl with pigtails suggested. She had straight black bangs and a pale face. She popped a blood-red lollipop into her mouth. 

Vega shot the little goddess a baleful glare. “That’s a mass sacrifice of virgins.”

The little girl was Hel, Goddess of Hell Dimensions. Her black eyes brightened with a flash of red as she smiled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Her voice was sugary sweet. 

A broad-shouldered man with shoulder-length black hair smirked at Hel. “You’re adorable,” Cernunnos, the God of the Hunt, told her. Hel giggled sweetly. The tall god turned back to Vega and said, “You are welcome to leave, sweet Vega. But I have yet to complete my mission and time dwindles.”

Vega’s shoulders fell as a breathy sigh left her. She studied Cernunnos with her pale eyes surrounded by black, as bright as stars in the night sky. Cernunnos was an earthly god made from the worship of humans, a fact she thought was obvious in his actions. 

He looked like a man, but from his head protruded the antlers of the beasts his worshipers had once hunted for food. His eyes were large and round like that of a buck. Around his neck, he wore a wooden torc and around his waist was a thin cloth. He stood before Vega and the others, proud and strong. As a god of people, rather than the multiverse like Vega and Hel, he had a symbiotic relationship with the humans. Vega thought it was exhausting, but Cernunnos seemed to vibrate with energy when on a mission for one of his worshipers and there was none that the God of the Hunt loved more than the Stag. 

Vega turned to Morai in the hope that the young woman would agree with her. The brunette floated in the air as if sitting on a chair with one knee crossed delicately over the other. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and a pair of massive glasses sat on the bridge of her nose. Morai, the Goddess of Fate, pushed the glasses up as her eyes flickered across the magical tablet in her hands. “I’m just an observer,” she said without looking up from her tablet. Vega sighed loudly.

They’d each felt the magical draw in the Department of Mysteries that night. There were moments in time where magic drew together, ready to swell and burst. Magical potential. Sometimes that potential came from a being and other times it was from an environment. In this case, it was certainly in part to All Hallows’ Eve. Cernunnos could feel in his magic that it was here and now that he would find the perfect mate for his Stag. All that was left to do was wait for magic to do her work.

Just as Vega was ready to complain again, the lift dinged. All four deities turned to the lift and watched as a witch stepped out into the atrium of the Department of Mysteries. 

“Well…” Cernunnos said at length. His eyes dragged up and down the petite witch’s form with interest. Her wild curls were pulled up off her neck and pretty, simple makeup accentuated the line of her eyes and the fullness of her lips. She wore a strapless black dress made in layers of tulle that fell to just below her knees. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

Hermione Granger stepped out of the lift with a stack of files in her arms. She didn’t see the deities watching her with interest as she stepped into the atrium. She paused as a chill passed over her. Hermione looked up and revealed a pair of doe eyes that had the God of the Hunt growling with pleasure. Those brown eyes scanned the atrium, but Hermione didn’t see anyone else. 

She shook her head. “It’s Halloween,” she reminded herself. Of course, no one else was there. She made to move towards the door that led to the departmental rooms where she would find the Head Unspeakable office. She felt someone brush her cheek. Hermione jumped and gasped. Her head whipped around. 

Cernunnos smiled darkly and lowered his hand. “She’s perfect.”

Vega laughed. The high, tinkling sound echoed eerily around them. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Why not?” he questioned, eyes never leaving the pretty mortal witch.

Vega waved her hand at the witch and time slowed down. She strode across the atrium and gestured to the girl with her hand. “She’s a child.”

“Mortals don’t live long in general,” Cernunnos argued. He crossed his arms and stood tall with his feet apart. 

“She’s an idiot. What witch comes  _ here _ on All Hallows’ Eve?” 

The God of the Hunt pursed his lips. He didn’t have a response to that. “But look at her. Those big brown eyes and pretty lips. Like a little bunny.” 

“I like her,” Hel pronounced with a bright smile. She popped her lollipop back in her mouth and skipped to Hermione’s side. Vega and Cernunnos both stilled at the little goddess’ words. Clearly there was more to this witch than a pretty face if  _ Hel _ liked her.

Moirai sighed heavily. The Goddess of Fate looked up from her tablet finally. “You can’t make mortals fall in love.” She waved her hand and time sped back to its normal pace.

Thoroughly spooked, Hermione turned on her heel and raced towards the lift. Cernunnos nodded his chin at the lift and the doors slammed shut. Hermione pulled up short with a small cry of surprise. She spun back around, wand drawn in one hand and the other clutching the collection of files to her chest. 

“Mortals have a tendency of falling in love with whoever they’re with. I’m more concerned about getting her where she needs to be.” He eyed Hermione as she surveyed the room with obvious fear and caution. 

Vega scoffed. “She’s from this world.”

Cernunnos smirked. “The Door was created for a reason,” he arrogantly stated.

Moirai’s eyes bugged open. “Not  _ that _ reason!” The Goddess of Fate jumped to her feet. “You’re messing with things that are not within  _ your _ domain.”

Cernunnos turned to Moirai, ignoring Hermione who dashed towards a door that would lead out of the atrium, only to find it locked. “Well, what would her fate be  _ here _ ?”

“More than a simple wife of one of your favourites!” Moirai gestured wildly. “She’s a genius, despite what Vega might think. This witch was born with a  _ purpose _ .”

“Only one?” he asked. Hermione tried another door, only to find it locked as well. “Because I see the mark of Gaia on her.” Hel and Vega both turned their attention to the slightly frantic witch. There was a glow of fertility magic around. A natural mother in both personality and magic. It was a rare gift that Mother Gaia rarely bestowed upon mortals. 

Moirai narrowed her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted through clenched teeth. “She will have children. At least three no matter who she ends up with.”

Cernunnos smirked triumphantly. “You mean her spouse is not a fated match?”

Moirai opened her mouth. She closed it with a huff and a roll of her eyes. “She’s matched with a number of  _ potential _ people. Her intelligence and magic make her highly compatible with many.”

“The Stag?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Moirai looked at the god incredulously. “You think I’ve run the numbers on  _ that _ ? Are you insane?”

Hermione slammed her hand against the closed doors of the lift. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she shouted. She dropped the files she’d brought with her on the ground. “I’m already late for the Halloween Ball and now I’m  _ stuck _ here.” Her hands balled into fists with her wand sticking out of the right one. 

“Well?” Cernunnos questioned. 

Moirai sighed. She lifted her tablet and her fingers flickered across the glass screen. “She’s career-driven and ambitious. She won’t like what you have in store for her,” the goddess warned. “And there are no guarantees it would even work out the way you’re hoping.”

“I’ll guide them together,” Cernunnos declared. “I know my Stag will figure the rest out. He is the most devout of all my followers.” Moirai continued her calculations. The God of the Hunt waved his hand and a click sounded from across the atrium.

Hermione froze in her frantic pacing. She turned wide eyes towards a door she hadn’t tried to open yet. She’d never been into the Rem Room before. Slowly, the witch crossed the atrium and passed through a door she knew very well she had no access to. The deities followed closely behind her. 

Inside was a square room made up of dark walls and flooring. There was nothing inside except for a set of marble double doors of an elaborate design. They stood tall in the centre of the room, supported by nothing on either side.

The door to the room closed quietly behind Hermione. The witch didn’t seem to notice. Her entire focus was on the Door at the centre of the room.

“It won’t work,” Moirai stated as she lowered her tablet, calculations complete. She looked back and forth between Hermione and Cernunnos. 

The God of the Hunt was not so easily swayed. With his dark eyes still on the witch, he prodded, “Unless?”

Moirai hesitated. Hel reached up and snatched the tablet from the goddess’ hands. A brief study of the contents and she announced, “You need to mark the witch.”

“Hel!” Moirai grabbed her tablet. The room grew thick with magic as the Goddess of Fate’s anger rose. 

“Make it known that you chose her,” Hel continued, completely ignoring Moirai’s rage. 

Vega shook her head. “Gaia will be furious if you mark her child.” Mother Gaia was possessive of the few that she claimed as her own. No gods or goddesses dared mess with her chosen children.

Cernunnos ignored Vega’s warning. “ _ Witch _ ,” he intoned. His voice echoed around them. Hermione spun around with a gasp. She stumbled back a step when she saw the tall, horned god before her. She raised her wand and the hand was immediately caught by Cernunnos in a firm grasp. His other hand cupped her cheek. 

Hermione stood frozen in both shock and terror. His thumb delicately stroked the edge of her lips. His power hummed in the air around her, pushing down on her. She wasn’t sure if it was the shock that had her paralyzed or if his magic was making it so.

“ _ Good luck _ ,” he said and his voice echoed throughout the room. Hermione’s mouth opened but before she could speak, Cernunnos pressed his lips to her forehead. The magic around the room swelled before suddenly rocketing inward. Hermione gasped as the god’s magic funnelled into her body. His power lit her magical core on fire. Her chest expanded with the sudden onslaught of power. 

A cry tore from the witch’s lips. The god’s magic spread through her veins like a wildfire. It set everything it touched ablaze and left her feeling hot and electric. The burning concentrated on her forehead until it felt like someone had pressed a hot iron to it. Just as it became too much, Cernunnos let go of her. 

The Door opened behind her. A gust of wind swept through the room and threw Hermione back. She screamed as she fell through the Door. Her body landed on the other side with a loud  _ thump _ .

Hermione looked up from her position on the floor of an alternate reality. Cernunnos nodded to her once. His hand raised and his hand closed into a fist. As he pulled his arm into the side of his body, the Door slammed shut. Hermione was left sealed on the other side.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Moirai stated blandly. 

Cernunnos smiled broadly. “She’s perfect. And the injection of my own magic will add to her fertility.” He winked at Moirai. “My Stag wants more than three children.” Cernunnos turned and confidently strode from the room.

“She was going to help fight the remaining darkness in this world! She would have been a paragon of good!” Moirai complained as she followed the god. “This world needed her.”

Hel giggled and sucked on her lollipop. She looked up at Vega. “Told you this world was still mine. Pay up, Blondie.”

Vega crossed her arms and sighed. “The poor souls of this dimension. You’re a wicked goddess. Will the witch even end up happy?”

Hel’s eyes burned blood red. “Who cares?” She turned to leave the room as she giggled childishly. 


	2. Chapter One

# 

#  Chapter One

Hermione sat on the floor of the Rem Room for a solid five minutes in stunned silence. The Door was closed. That felt significant. She’d never been inside the Rem Room before. She was training in the Hall of Time and didn’t have access yet. The door shouldn’t have even been open. 

And that man. Her entire body burned hot at the memory of the tall, horned man that had kissed her forehead. That magic. Hermione had never felt anything so profound before. 

Hermione brought her hands to her face. She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay.” She needed to find Harry. Whatever the hell just happened, it was probably a sign of bad things to come.

Hermione pulled herself to her feet. Her fingers tightened around her wand, reassuring her of its presence. The sounds of her heels clicking against the marble floor echoed as she made her way out of the Rem Room. The door clicked shut behind her and Hermione stilled as a thought occurred to her. She turned and gently tried to open the door again.

It was locked once more. Hermione’s brows drew together. There wasn’t much she could do about that right now. Her first instinct was to get the hell away. She sped across the atrium and pressed the button for the lift. The Department of Mysteries lacked the ominous feeling that had pervaded it only moments before. She looked over her shoulder as the lift  _ pinged _ . Her eyes drifted to the Rem Room and she shivered.

Hermione escaped into the lift before the doors could close on her once more. She pressed the button for the main floor and watched the Rem Room disappear from sight as the lift doors slid shut.  _ Rem _ was Latin for  _ reality _ . The Reality Room. Hermione crossed her arms and fought down a shiver of foreboding. 

A disembodied voice announced the ministry’s atrium and Hermione sprang from the lift like a shot from a gun. The atrium was dark and empty. It had been when Hermione arrived as well. It was well into Halloween night after all. 

She shouldn’t have even been at the ministry, but her stupid Unspeakable trainer was trying to ruin her life. He’d deliberately told her the paperwork for her first project didn’t need to be filed until next week. It was due  _ yesterday _ . Hermione nearly had a heart attack when Head Unspeakable Spratt floo called her. 

So consumed by her thoughts, Hermione nearly missed it. She stopped in the middle of the atrium as her entire body went cold. Slowly, she turned around to face the massive statue behind her. It was a big, disgusting monument of wizards standing above and before all other magical creatures. It was ugly, truly. And it was also replaced at the end of the war.

Dread filled Hermione. She hadn’t time-travelled, she knew that. There was no time-turner used and no time-dust. She may not have been an Unspeakable for long, but she knew how time travel worked at the very least and she  _ hadn’t _ time-travelled. 

Hermione thought she might be sick as she stared at the statue and all its implications hit her. She was in an alternate reality.  _ Rem Room _ , she thought bitterly. She pressed a hand to her forehead. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Get a read on the situation, she thought immediately. A new world, new history, new culture, new… everything. She needed to get a lay of the land, as it were. Hermione turned to the floos. She grabbed a handful of powder and shouted “Leaky Cauldron!”

Hermione stumbled out of the floo and waved her wand to silently siphon the ash off of herself. The pub was full of people in costume. Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief that it was still Halloween. Was time-travel possible when hopping realities? What if one world didn’t run linearly to another? Hermione pressed a finger to her eyebrow to stave off an oncoming migraine. 

She slipped into the crowd of people and made her way to the bar. Her hand snatched an old paper from the counter and flipped it to the front. The first thing that struck her was that  _ The Prophet _ was titled  _ The Oracle _ . Hermione wrinkled her nose. The date was the same, but there was no mention of the big Halloween Ball that Hermione had been about to attend. 

She licked her lips as she flipped through the paper. There wasn’t any news about Harry. It was the most obvious change hidden between the inky pages. Not a single word was printed about Britain’s Savior. Hermione’s lips trembled. No Harry? She didn’t know if she could handle this without Harry or Ron to help her along. 

Hermione turned another page and froze in shock. There, in black and white, was a moving picture of no others but Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Her eyes flickered down to the description.  _ Lord Black, right, accepting the Woolwright Award. _ There was an article below that briefly explained that Sirius had just accepted the role of Lead Prosecutor for the Ministry of Magic. 

Hermione’s mind raced as she thought of a cold Hogsmeade afternoon when she’d gone to visit Sirius in the caves by Hogwarts. Harry and Ron weren’t talking to her and she’d gone off in an attempt to find someone to vent to. She remembered Sirius’ thanks for her help in saving him back in her third year. She also remembered the whispered words he’d spoken if she ever found herself in danger -- back in time -- again. The Blacks were Unspeakables, historically. It was an occupational hazard to fall back in time and the family had developed codes to keep themselves safe. Sirius had shared these codes with Hermione. He’d claimed he owed her a life debt and one day, someone in his family would resolve it if he couldn’t.

Hermione shuffled her feet as she stared at the picture of Sirius waving and smiling charmingly with Remus Lupin at his side. If Remus was with him, Sirius was likely still a Gryffindor and an animagus. Hopefully, the significant parts of his boyhood were the same and she could use that information to convince him she wasn’t an enemy. She didn’t know if her codes would be enough, especially considering that in her world, Sirius had despised his family. 

He wouldn’t live at Grimmauld Place, would he? The paper called him Lord Black. Didn’t lord’s usually live in ancestral homes? Hermione didn’t think Grimmauld Place was the Black Ancestral Home. But besides the flat that Sirius kept on Diagon Alley in the 80s, Hermione didn’t have a clue where to look.

“Anything I can get for ya, love?”

Hermione looked up and blinked in confusion at the stranger behind the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. He looked like a much younger version of the owner, Tom. Tom’s son? He didn’t have one as far as Hermione knew, not in her world at least. 

Tom’s eyes flickered across her face. He blanched and shook his head. Hermione’s brows drew together at his expression. Oh, Merlin. Did she already exist here? Was it possible for two Hermione Grangers to co-exist? Time-travel wise, it was possible for a limited amount of time. Perhaps this was only a temporary excursion? 

The memory of the Door slamming closed before her only minutes earlier played through her mind’s eye and Hermione fought back the sudden urge to cry. It didn’t  _ feel _ temporary.

“Miss…?” The younger Tom asked. His face was still pink and his eyes flickered towards her forehead. The skin there was still warm from the horned man’s kiss. 

“I’m fine,” Hermione finally responded with her sweetest smile. “Thank you.”

The man blushed all over before stammering a response and rushing away. Hermione tried very hard not to let his response worry her. Her eyes turned back to  _ The Oracle _ as she tried to work out where she could possibly find Sirius. 

People pushed into her from either side as they shouted out orders for drinks. 

He was a lawyer, she realized. She could just go to his office. Of course. Ministry prosecutors had their offices in the Ministry of Magic. Hermione shook her head as she turned back towards the floo. She squeezed through the throng of people back towards the floo access.

She bumped into a tall wizard and nearly fell back on her behind. Hands caught her upper arms and pulled her in before she toppled over. “Easy there.”

Hermione looked up and her eyes shot wide at the sight of Thorfinn Rowle. The last she’d seen him was at his trial. As far as she knew, he was still in Azkaban and would likely remain there for several more years.  _ In her world _ . 

Thorfinn’s blue eyes darted to her forehead before slowly tracking down her body. Hermione fought a shiver of revulsion. His gaze felt like an unwanted physical touch, sliding down her body in places it had no right being. “How ‘bout I buy you a drink, witch?” He shot her a wink.

Hermione twisted out of his hold. “No, thank you.” She ducked her head and attempted to slip past him. The shock of being hit on by a pure-blood like Thorfinn Rowle was too much right now. The world was coming apart around her, she did not have time for tall blonde Vikings with anger issues. 

“Oi,” he protested before she could leave. He grabbed her arm again and Hermione shot him a dark look over her shoulder. “Come on now. Just a drink. Won’t kill you nothing. ‘Sides…” His eyes flickered to her forehead again. “I reckon we’d make a good match.”

He pulled her in closer. Hermione dug her wand into his side. The end burned hot with barely suppressed power. “Let. Go.”

Rowle’s eyes widened. He looked more impressed than afraid, but Hermione would take what she could get. He let go of her arm and Hermione slipped through the crowd.

She made it to the floo without any other interruptions. A flash of green flames later and Hermione was back where she started in the Ministry of Magic. She crossed her arms over her chest to fight off a shiver as she walked through the empty atrium. The echoing of her heels taunted her. 

Hermione rubbed her forehead. It was still warm and tingled with magic. She was a little scared to look at it, at this point. Clearly there was something wrong with it. Her mind flashed with the image of the horned man. A faerie, perhaps? No. It was Halloween. A god. He must have been some sort of god or a very powerful spirit, at least. 

She’d met a  _ god _ . A shiver rolled through her body. 

Hermione shook her head. No. It was impossible. This was all just some very elaborate, very detailed, very  _ bad _ dream.

Hermione took the lift to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Instead of turning left towards the Aurors’ barracks, she turned right towards the prosecutors’ offices. Whereas the Aurors’ barracks were open with partners’ desks pushed together and lined with meeting rooms and prisoner holding cells, the prosecutors’ offices were all enclosed and private. Each lawyer was given their own space and depending on their station and workload, also had an assistant’s desk out front. Hermione found the largest office with the name _Lord_ _Sirius Black_ _III_ inscribed on the front and stepped inside.

The office was spacious with a couch along one wall and bookcases along the opposite. At the back of the room was a line of windows that let in the moonlight to stream across the great wood desk in front of it. A long table sat behind the desk and under the row of windows. Hermione inspected the picture frames that sat on top.

There was a wedding photo of Sirius and Remus that had Hermione grinning. She’d always thought they were secretly in love. Maybe this world viewed same-sex relationships more positively than her own. There was a group shot from the wedding of the Marauders. Hermione picked it up for a closer look. 

They looked to be in their late twenties. Sirius and James were both sporting well-groomed beards and barely tamed curls, though Sirius’ were certainly longer. Remus had a clean-shaven but still scarred face. He looked alive and happy like she’d never seen him before. His photographed self laughed uproariously at something Peter said. Peter was the most changed. He was thin with a chubby face and bright eyes. He looked like a boy in comparison to the aged, rat-faced man she’d known. 

Hermione set the picture down and turned around to face the rest of the office. She had hours before anyone would show up for work. Sleep didn’t seem much like an option at this point, not with the magic still thrumming through her body. 

Hermione naturally gravitated towards the bookcases. They were law books, of course. They wouldn’t help her find a way back home. But what if she couldn’t get back home? As much as Hermione hated to even entertain the thought, she was a realist at heart. She knew the rules of time-travel were strict. If one goes back in time, one must live the time that has been turned back to their present. She didn’t know all that much about alternate realities, but assumed the magical rules surrounding it would be strict as well. 

“Worse case scenario,” Hermione said to herself. “Be prepared.” She pulled several books from the shelves. She paused with a tome in each hand when she saw the mirror on the bookshelf. It was placed in the centre, above a series of more photographs and knick-knacks. Hermione hugged the books to her chest before tentatively stepping up to the mirror. 

Big brown eyes stared back at her. Some of her curls had come loose from her updo. Her light, elegant makeup was still firmly in place. Her forehead was unmarked. Hermione touched her fingers to the tingling skin. Whatever it was that Rowle and young Tom had seen, Hermione couldn’t see it for herself.

She decided to push the unnerving thought asise and sat down on the long leather couch. If she got stuck in this world, she wanted to make sure that she wouldn’t get in trouble for it. Hermione opened the first book on Unspeakable Laws and Practices -- something she knew from experience every ministry prosecutor worth his salt had -- and opened it up to the table of contents. She had a long night ahead of herself.

>*<

Hermione awoke to sunlight and the sound of shuffling papers. It took her a moment, as she lied there between awake and asleep, to remember everything that had happened the night before. It all came screaming back to her like a freight train on full speed.

Hermione gasped as she sat up straight. A book fell from her lap and  _ thudded _ against the carpeted floor of Sirius’ office.

“You’re awake.”

Hermione spun around with a gasp. Her eyes widened at the sight of the long dead Marauder. He looked younger than she’d ever seen him before. Azkaban had not aged this wizard the way it had her own world’s version. His grey eyes were bright and intelligent. The beard he’d sported in the wedding photo was gone, replaced by a stubbled jaw line and a small smirk that played along the edges of his lips.

Sirius’ eyes flickered up to Hermione’s forehead. The smirk on his face vanished as his eyes widened.

“Sirius!” Hermione exclaimed breathlessly when she saw him. She spun her legs over the side of the couch so she could face him more fully. “It’s you!” 

Sirius’ eyes narrowed on her. His entire body was tense. “Do I know you?” By the tone of his voice, it was rather obvious that he didn’t think they did.

“ _ In genere providit pudicitiam tutandam esse, eique omnino gratuita _ ,” Hermione immediately recited verbatim. It was the exact phrase Sirius had taught her almost seven years ago now.  _ The purity of the family must be protected at all costs _ .

Sirius shot to his feet. He swept across the office and stuck his head out the door. “Cancel my appointments!” he barked. He slammed the door shut and threw up the heaviest set of privacy wards that Hermione had ever seen outside of Gringotts. He turned back to Hermione and pointed his wand at her. The young witch threw her hands up in a sign of surrender. “Who are you?”

“Hermione Granger,” she answered immediately. “I’m not related to you. I’m from an alternate reality.”

Sirius looked gobsmacked for a few seconds as that new information sunk in. He shook his head. “ _ What _ ?”

Hermione licked her lips nervously. She had to explain this properly and quickly, she knew. Sirius had a very short temper and even shorter attention span. “Could you,” she gestured to his wand.

Sirius glanced at the wand in his hand and frowned. “No,” he immediately argued. Hermione sighed. Despite his three piece suit and fancy office, Sirius was still  _ Sirius _ . “Explain,” he ordered.

Hermione pursed her lips at his tone, despite it, she tried to explain things as simply as possible. “I work in the Department of Mysteries. I fell through the Door in the Rem Room.  _ Rem _ translates to  _ reality _ . I’m from an alternate reality.”

“Who told you to say that phrase just now? It’s a family secret. Who told you about it?”

“You did,” Hermione replied emphatically. “You from my world, at least. I saved your life when I was younger. You told me that phrase and said if I ever find myself in trouble with a time-turner,” Hermione tucked a stray curl behind her ear and ducked her head, “ _ again _ , then I should find you.” She looked back up at him and widened her eyes in a manner her Sirius had once accused of being a ‘wounded kitten’ look. “You said it meant you’d help me.”

Sirius did not look fully convinced. He kept his wand trained on her. “Prove it.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Hermione said, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

He sucked in a sharp breath at the phrase and Hermione knew she’d hit the nail on the head. Sirius’ wand hand dropped to his side. “Hermione?” he checked. She nodded. “The hell am I supposed to do with you, kitten?”

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink at the nickname. “Help me get home?” She dropped her hands into her lap.

“Is that possible?” Sirius didn’t sound like he thought it was.

“I don’t know. I was sort of hoping it would be. I… I’d like to see my friends and family again.” Her eyes teared and Sirius sighed. He ran a hand down the side of his face.

“I need a drink,” he lamented. “Why did I quit drinking? It was such a wonderful pastime.” He wandered over to his desk and sat down. Sirius continued to grumble to himself as he shuffled papers around on his desk. He scribbled out two notes and shot them through the floo.

“Who are you contacting?” she asked from the couch. 

“Two members of my coven.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Your  _ coven _ ?” Sirius looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. “Witches and wizards don’t actually have  _ covens _ . That’s a muggle stereotype.” 

He shook his head, a look of astonishment on his face. “Covens are how we commune with our patron gods. How else would we remain true to magic and our affinities?”

“Affinities?”

Sirius and Hermione stared at each other in confusion.

“Are you telling me,” Sirius finally clarified, “that you are not a part of  _ any _ coven?” Hermione shook her head. “You never went through your Awakening Ritual?” Another shake. “An annual Gratuity Blessing?” he sounded horrified by the concept of the last one and Hermione shrank into the couch. Sirius collapsed back into his seat with a dramatic flair. “By the Horned One, you’re cursed, aren’t you? This is a punishment.” He gestured to her and Hermione huffed in offense though she couldn’t deny it. Maybe she was cursed.

The floo flared green as a tall man in Unspeakable robes stepped through the fireplace. He shook his shoulders and pulled back his hood. Hermione smiled brightly at the sight of Remus Lupin. “Professor Lupin!” she exclaimed happily. 

Remus’ light green eyes widened at the sight of the pretty witch on Sirius’ couch. He opened his mouth with a slight smirk across his face. Whatever he was going to say died the moment he spotted her forehead. Remus’ jaw dropped open and he shot his husband a startled look.

Hermione frowned as she touched her forehead. It still tingled when she touched the skin there. There hadn’t been a thing on her forehead last night and Hermione wondered what it was all these men were seeing on her face that she couldn’t spot herself.

“What did you do?” Remus growled.

Sirius scoffed. “I didn’t do anything!” His husband raised a disbelieving brow. “I didn’t!”

“It’s my fault,” Hermione claimed apologetically. “Don’t blame Sirius.”

Both of Remus’ eyebrows raised. He glared at his husband. “ _ Sirius? _ ”

The animagus raised his hands in surrender. “It’s not what you think!”

“She’s marked!” Remus shouted. “What else could I possibly think!” The enraged wizard turned to leave. Sirius jumped to his feet and called after Remus. 

Hermione made it to the werewolf first. She leapt over the coffee table and grabbed hold of his sleeve before he could floo away. “Remus, please.” Remus’ entire body tensed at her touch. He growled low in his throat. Hermione didn’t let go, despite the warning. She ducked her head submissively and spoke in a soft voice, “I came through the Door.”

Remus didn’t make a sound, but he also didn’t try to push her off of him. Hermione looked up from beneath her long lashes. “I need your help, Moony. Please?” She bit her lip and tried to use the ‘wounded kitten’ look again even though it had never really worked on Remus when she was younger.

Remus sighed and all the tension fell away from his body. Hermione and Sirius both relaxed in turn. The werewolf looked over Hermione to her husband. “Did you summon James and Peter?”

“James, yes. Pete just got back from the forest with his wife. I figured he’d need a rest.” Sirius smirked and Remus chuckled and rolled his eyes. 

“Order me some tea, mutt. And perhaps something to eat for our little guest.”

Hermione smiled in relief and let go of Remus’ sleeve. She shot a smile at Sirius before settling back down on the couch. “Where should we start?”

Remus conjured an armchair for himself across from her. He pulled off his Unspeakable robes and revealed a nicely tailored tweed suit beneath. He looked like her professor again -- minus the holes in his sleeves -- and the image of it tugged at her heart. He took his seat with a sigh. “We start with tea and biscuits. We have to wait for James to arrive.”

Hermione tried not to be too put out by his response. She wanted to figure this out and go home as quickly as possible. She was certain Harry was already sending out a search party across Britain. Hermione had more than a few enemies that would like to see her dead. Even more so after the war, now that she’d changed so many pure-blood policies. 

“We could fill him in when he gets here,” she offered.

“No,” Sirius said simply. He elegantly sat down on the other side of the couch with one leg crossed over his knee. He stretched his arm along the back of the couch. A tea tray magically appeared on the coffee table as well as a tiered cake display with scones, finger sandwiches, and biscuits. 

No one moved towards the tea for a moment. Both wizards looked to Hermione expectantly. The witch huffed dramatically before shifting forward to pour them each their tea. She made their cups without asking how they took them and both wizards made sounds of surprise when she got it right. Hermione pouted as she nibbled on a finger sandwich. 

“James is our coven leader,” Remus explained as he picked up a chocolate biscuit. Hermione raised an eyebrow. She was rather surprised by that revelation. Sure, Harry had been their own leader of sorts, but they didn’t have a pack dynamic. Hermione had always assumed that Remus was their leader. No, she realized, that didn’t make sense. Remus had admitted himself in her world that he was too nervous to stand up to Sirius and James about their bullying.

Remus nodded to his husband. “When Sirius contacted us, he did so through our coven protocols. We can’t begin without him.”

“Coven protocols?” Hermione asked. She turned to Sirius with a raised eyebrow.

“It means it’s private,” he explained. “Even in the Wizengamot, there are laws that protect coven secrets. It’s the best way to go about this, especially if it ends up being slightly illegal.”

“Very illegal,” Remus corrected. He turned his attention back to Hermione. “You don’t know the Coven Protocols of 1566?”

“They don’t have covens in her world,” Sirius supplied before Hermione could answer. Remus’ eyes widened. “I know.” The werewolf shook his head in disbelief.

Hermione took a sip of her tea from the delicate china cup. “Is it really so unbelievable?”

Remus let out a long breath as he considered how to answer that. “Let me ask you this: where does your magic come from?”

“My magical core.”

He nodded. “Yes, but who put it there? It’s more than just genetics. Otherwise, how do you explain squibs from magically healthy families and muggle-borns from families with no relation to magic? We know there are gods. All Hallows’ Eve is one of their sacred days. Their most sacred, some believe.”

Hermione shook her head. “You’re jumping from ‘we have magic’ and ‘there are gods in the world’ to ‘gods gave us magic’ very quickly. There are also magical creatures and spirits and demons.”

“Yes,” Remus agreed patiently. “But… as a magical creature,” he paused when he said that and Hermione nodded, signifying she was well aware that he was a werewolf, he continued, “as a werewolf, I can tell you that my magic is in a symbiotic relationship with the god that made me. A werewolf is fundamentally connected to its creator, and I don’t mean the wolf that bit me. Werewolf magic is subservient to the god that created it.”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on the couch as she thought that over. She couldn’t claim what he was saying was false because she wasn’t a werewolf and had no clue. She had no connection to magical creatures. Hermione had no clue if gods created them. “What god created werewolves?” she asked instead, curious despite herself.

“Cernunnos,” Sirius responded. “The God of the Hunt. It’s said that he had worshippers who wanted to run with him through the forest forever. This sacred coven was given the ultimate blessing to become one with his pack. He has dominion over werewolves, dogs, stags, rats, horned serpents, and bulls.”

Hermione nodded slowly. It made sense that Sirius, James, and Peter would also worship this god. All their animagus forms aligned with the god. She wondered if that was because they worshipped Cernunnos or if they worshipped Cernunnos because of their forms. 

“Have you ever met your god?”

“Once,” Remus replied softly. “I was bitten very young. Too young, he’d told me. But not all of Cernunnos’ worshippers are kind.” Greyback, Hermione thought. No, she couldn’t imagine that the horrible monster was kind in any world. “He came to me during my transformation and stayed with me the whole night.” Remus looked down at his scarred hands and smiled gently.

“There are many gods in the universe,” Sirius said when it became obvious that Remus wouldn’t say any more. “More gods than we likely know of. Not all of them care about the covens that are formed in their honour. Cernunnos was born of the devotion of humankind to the hunt, his female counterpart, Artemis, as well. Because of that, they care deeply for their worshippers.” 

Hermione took another sip of tea while she digested that information. “But you’re not a werewolf,” she said to Sirius. He nodded once. “So, how did you come to follow a god?”

“Normally,” Sirius explained, “when a witch or wizard reaches puberty, they pass through what is called their Awakening Ritual. This ritual opens up the pathways of your magic and allows you access to the special abilities gifted to you by the gods. Not all of us have them. In the past few generations, less and less of us have been blessed by gods.” Remus and Sirius shared a look that had Hermione thinking that this must be an ongoing concern for them.

“Sometimes,” Sirius continued, “even if you don’t have any gifts, a god or goddess will make their claim known -- or even appear before you, if you’re lucky. If that doesn’t happen -- and for many it doesn’t -- you’re normally inducted into whichever coven your mother or father are a part of. Oftentimes, they’re a part of sister covens.”

“What are sister covens?”

Remus sat forward and clasped his hands together. “They’re covens separated by gender,” he explained in his professor-voice, one that Hermione remembered fondly. “Like Cernunnos and Artemis. Both are gods of the hunt with domain over similar animals. If we want to do a fertility ritual, for example, we need both men and women involved so that all genders and all possible forms of sexuality are present. We would join with a coven for Artemis and perform the fertility ritual with them.” 

Hermione’s hands were shaking. She looked up at Remus. “You said I was marked.” The werewolf stiffened. She touched her forehead. “It’s here, right? Everyone keeps looking at it, like they’re surprised. I can’t see anything there, though.”

“You haven’t had your Awakening Ritual,” Sirius gently explained. “It would open up the magical connection that touches your sight. You’re blind to the marks of the gods until then.”

“But if marks are normal in this world, why does everyone look so surprised by it?”

“Marks aren’t normal,” Remus corrected. “A witch or wizard is blessed by the gods with abilities. Or a sign is given to show which god wishes to claim them. But a physical  _ mark _ by a god is…” Remus glanced towards Sirius and shrugged helplessly. “I’ve only heard myths about it.” 

“Same.”

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. “I just want to go home,” she whispered.

Before either wizard could speak, the floo flared green once more. A tall, curly hair man with a neatly groomed beard across the lower half of his face stepped through. His hair was a mess and his shirt was untucked. He looked like he’d woken up minutes ago and rushed to get here as quickly as possible.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes beneath his wide frame eyeglasses. “All right?” he mumbled without looking up. When he finally caught sight of the three people in Sirius’ office, his hand fell away and his eyes shot wide open, completely fixed on Hermione. “ _ Oh _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Ffn was having a load of issues, as I'm sure many of you know. I wanted to wait until I could post the next chapter on both sites together. So, hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Thanks for reading xx


	3. Chapter Two

# 

#  Chapter Two

“Walk us through it,” James said from his seat beside her on the couch. Sirius had given up his position to their coven leader and dragged a chair over from his desk. James sloppily made himself a cup of tea with no less than four heaping spoons of sugar in it that had Hermione cringing. “What happened?”

“Well, I was supposed to be going to the Halloween Ball.” She gestured to her tulle gown and the men nodded. “But the Head Unspeakable floo-called me. You see, my trainer said that I was supposed to hand in my proposal for my first official project next week, but it was actually due yesterday.” Hermione huffed. “He’s terrible. I’m certain he hates me.”

“Who’s your trainer?” Remus asked curiously.

“Unspeakable 23.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m starting in the Hall of Time and he thinks I’m a waste of space.”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up. “That’s impressive. Unspeakable 23 is notoriously one of the more prestigious positions. The Head Unspeakable must think highly of you. Not to mention the fact that most Unspeakables don’t even  _ enter _ the Hall of Time until they’re very experienced.”

Hermione blushed. “Well, I tested well.” She shrugged, completely missing Remus’ look of disbelief. “Anyway, I figured I could quickly drop off my proposal and make it to the party just a few minutes late.” Remus winced and Hermione nodded. “Yes, in hindsight, it was very foolish of me.”

“I’m sorry,” James interrupted, “why is it foolish?” He sipped loudly at his tea as his eyes flickered to her forehead and back to her eyes. He couldn’t seem to look away from her mark for very long -- none of them could, but James was the most obvious.

“The DoM is a nexus of magical power,” Remus explained. “The gods are drawn to it on holidays, All Hallows’ Eve more so than any other. As you know, the gods tend to interfere with wizardkind on Halloween. Unspeakables aren’t allowed to enter the DoM on that day because, in the past, it’s led to disastrous results.” He raised his eyebrows as he looked pointedly at the young witch.

Hermione blushed and her shoulders curled inward at his silent reprimand. “It was stupid. The second the lift opened, I could feel that I wasn’t alone. Then something touched my cheek and I just immediately went back to the lift. But… it closed. None of the doors would open.”

“How did you end up in the Rem Room?”

“The door for it opened,” Hermione explained. “Everything else was locked but… I’m not even sure why I went inside. I just… did. It was stupid and completely unchararistic of me. I don’t make stupid decisions like that! But I just - I did it.” She gestured with her hand, distraught at her own idiocy.

Sirius nodded in understanding. “The gods can sway people’s decisions. Especially on such a powerful holiday. You probably weren’t in control and didn’t even realize it.”

The explanation didn’t make Hermione feel any better. “Regardless, I went inside. I was just looking at the Door. I’d never been in there before and I guess my curiosity took over.” She made a face at herself. She’d done this all to herself, really.

“Did you close the Door after you came through?” Remus asked. Hermione looked up and quirked her brow in question. “After you passed through the Door to our world, did you close it again behind you or did it close on its own? If it closed on its own, then the connection between our worlds is still active. You can go home.”

Hermione’s lips quivered. “And if it was closed deliberately?”

Remus shot her a sympathetic look. “The connection would be cut off. The next time the door opens, it will be to a new world. Finding your original one would be… impossible. There are too many variables.”

Sirius leaned forward. He gently asked, “Did you close it?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. But he did.”

James quirked a brow. “He who? I thought you were alone?”

“I was,” Hermione confirmed, “at first. The atrium for the DoM was empty. But I could  _ feel _ that I wasn’t alone. When I entered the Rem Room, I turned and there was a man there. A god, I suppose.” She touched her forehead. “The one who marked me. That’s when it happened.”

“Cernunnos?” James clarified. At Hermione’s shocked expression, he quickly explained, “The mark on your forehead belongs to him. No other god could have made it.” He leaned forward while both Sirius and Remus stared at Hermione, gobsmacked. “You saw him? How did he mark you?”

She nodded. “He kissed my forehead.” All three Marauders leaned back in shock. “Is that bad? What does that mean?” Her pitch rose along with her anxiety. It didn’t bode well for her that these wizards, easily twice her age, were looking gobsmacked by this situation. How would they be able to help her if even they didn’t know what the hell was going on?

James shook his head. He turned to Remus. “Moony?”

The werewolf ran a hand over his mouth. “That’s… I don’t know. I’ve never heard any myth or story about Cernunnos coming to a  _ witch _ before. It’s incredible. Did he say anything?”

Hermione thought back. Her mind raced. That moment was filled with so much shock, fear, and raw magic that it was hard to recollect everything that had happened. “‘Good luck.’ He wished me good luck. Then he pushed me through the Door and when I fell to the other side, he used magic to pull the Door closed.”

Silence greeted the end of her explanation. 

“I’m stuck here, aren’t I?” she asked in a small voice.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “I think we ought to look into making sure the Wizengamot doesn’t take action against you.” Hermione’s eyes squeezed shut. She wasn’t getting home, he meant. She was stuck here. Remus turned to his husband. “How well versed are you on laws pertaining to dimensional travel?”

Sirius made a face.

Hermione took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She caught James’ gaze from where he sat on the other end of the leather couch. His bright hazel eyes studied her from a handsome face. He still sported that well groomed beard and head of black curls that she’d seen in Sirius’ wedding photo. He didn’t look as much like Harry as she’d been expecting. The thought of Harry had her heart aching. 

She swallowed down her hurt and frustration. That wouldn’t be helpful right now. She needed to focus. Hermione picked up one of the massive books she’d been reading the night before. “I already started trying to familiarize myself with the laws on dimensional travel. I figured it was best to look into the worst case scenario. With gods at play, I figured my chances for getting home were rather small.”

“There is still a chance though,” Sirius protested.

They all looked to Remus. He conceded the fact with a reluctant nod. “But it would take years to figure out the calculations and even if we did…”

“Do I really want to go against a god?” Hermione finished for him. She raised an eyebrow at Remus. “You wouldn’t help me.”

He shook his head. “Cernunnos sent you here. He marked you so that we would know. To send you back would be a betrayal. If he’d left the Door open, then sure. But he’s made it quite clear that he expects you to remain in our world. I won’t defy him.” 

Hermione sighed and nodded. She’d expected as much. “So, I’m stuck here.” Hermione looked away as the wave of emotion she’d only just forestalled crashed over her. She pictured Harry’s wild hair and Ron’s silly smile. Her boys would be crushed when she just disappeared. Neither would ever know what happened to her. Death Eater supporters would be blamed, she was sure. Harry would start a crusade across Britain to find her -- but they’d never truly know what happened to their best friend. 

“Do you need a moment?” Remus asked gently. Hermione nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. “The loo’s through there.” He nodded to a door off the side of the office. Hermione mumbled a ‘thank you’ before disappearing through the door.

Remus waited until he heard the click of the door before turning to James and Sirius. He leaned forward and quietly hissed, “What the  _ actual fuck _ ?”

Sirius raised his hands. “I didn’t have anything to do with this, but it’d have to be someone within the inner circle. Pete? Maybe Hallewell?” There were seven in the innermost circle of the coven, but only Pete or Gaian Hallewell would have done something so impulsive on their own.

Remus shook his head. “Hallewell wouldn’t have made a bid to the Horned One and what would Pete have even asked for? He just got married on Mabon.” Both Sirius and Remus turned to James. Their coven leader had pink cheeks and was nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “James, the  _ fuck _ did you do?”

“It was just a sabbath!” he protested in a raised whisper. Sirius hissed at him to be quiet and glanced towards the door Hermione had disappeared through. James continued on in a loud whisper. “I was just paying my respects and doing prayer and…” He sighed and shook his head. “You know the position I’m in with the Wizengamot. I haven’t found a wife yet and I certainly have no heir to speak of. They’re going to take away my position and I can’t afford to let that happen. Not only will it mess with our voting block against the current bullshit going on in the Wizengamot, but it could lead to someone usurping my position in the coven. Moreover,” he shook his head with a sigh, “the Potter seat is a part of my family’s legacy.”

“I get it,” Sirius cut in empathetically. “Believe me, I do. But couldn’t you have just handed the position back to your father?”

James shook his head. “Dad entrusted the Potter seat to me. I’m the head of our family now. You can’t undo that, you know that.” Sirius conceded that fact with a reluctant nod.

“More importantly,” Remus cut in. “You’re head of the coven, James. You shouldn’t be worrying about someone usurping your position and you wouldn’t be if you’d just cut Rosier and his ilk loose.”

James glared at him. “It’s not that simple and you know it.” Remus opened his mouth but a sharp glare from James had him closing it without a word. “I’ve made my decision about Rosier and his friends inclusion in the coven and that’s final.”

Remus clenched his jaw and looked down at his lap. Sirius warily glanced between his husband and his oath-brother. He cleared his throat and decided to get them back on topic. “What, exactly, did you say when you prayed to Him?”

James sighed and ran a heavy hand down the side of his face. “I asked Him to send me someone --  _ anyone _ \-- that he might approve of to marry. I figured if I couldn’t find love again, at least I’d find someone that would be good for the coven.” James tugged on his short beard. “Honestly, I sort of expected some bloke to come out of the woodworks. It’s not like Cernunnos is worshipped by women. I wasn’t expecting a girl from an alternate reality who bears his  _ mark _ .” 

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, I guess you should probably send your thanks because the Horned One found you a wife.”

Sirius sighed heavily as he picked up one of the law books from the coffee table. “Guess that means it’s our job to make sure the Wizengamot doesn’t kill her before you can pop her full of babies, eh?”

James’ head shot up. “Kill her?”

Remus nodded and picked up a different law book. “They’ve done so in the past. We need to determine if her world runs linearly to our own and if her history’s events do so as well. If they determine our world’s timelines are similar enough, they could kill her under the pretence of a time-traveller.”

Sirius nodded along. He crossed his leg over his opposite knee and rested the massive tome in his lap. The pages magically flipped to the sections he currently needed most. “If that’s not the current case, we have a better shot at helping her. But if there’s another version of her here then we run into more problems.”

“What we need to do,” Remus explained, “is figure out a way to protect her through laws that are considered more important than the preservation of the timeline. Preserving the timeline is a vague claim, but if anyone wants to object to her presence in our world, then they’ll do it under that pretense. It’s especially difficult to defend because of the nebulous nature of it. Anything older, bound in blood, or related to a coven would likely work in our favour.”

“Her last name is Granger.” Sirius flipped to another section of his book as he spoke. “I suspect she’s either a muggle-born or a half-blood. Pure-blood laws won’t protect her and technically she’s not a part of any coven.”

“That’s an easy enough fix.” James leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Being inducted into a coven is rather simple. If she’s an Unspeakable, then she’s smart and powerful. A god would likely choose her in an Awakening Ritual. She’s already been marked by Cernunnos, so it’s likely that Artemis would take her. If she’s a part of a coven, she’d be fine?”

“Unlikely,” Sirius flipped his book around and set it on the coffee table. The three Marauders moved in closer to get a better look. “ _ Gardener vs. the Wizengamot 1604 _ . Gardener was a traveller from another reality. The Wizengamot proved that his reality was basically the same as our own -- just a few years ahead -- and was executed on the basis that he was a danger to the timeline. More importantly, Gardener was a part of a coen, he was a follower of Bathala the Creator.”

“The coven couldn’t protect him?” James asked, confused that no one would come to the aid of one of their own.

“Bathala is a Filipino god. His coven wasn’t anywhere in the area and unable to help. But it sets precedent to kill someone despite the fact they’re a part of a coven.” Sirius scratched his stubble lined chin. “It’ll make it harder to fight the Wizengamot.”

“But the Coven Protocols have hundreds of rules,” James protested. He gestured with his hands as he spoke. His hazel eyes glittered with the start of an idea just on the edge of his mind. “We need to make it so that killing her wouldn’t just be a loss for our coven but an infringement.”

“How so?” Remus asked, intrigued by where James was going.

“Her mark. It’s a direct blessing from a god unlike anything we’ve seen since ancient times. For followers of the Horned One, we could argue that it’s… sacred. He chose her for a  _ purpose _ .” James looked at Sirius and Remus. “Killing her defies the gods,” he finished.

Sirius let out a long breath as a shiver ran down his spin. “That would work.”

>*<

Hermione’s fingers curled around the edge of the porcelain sink in Sirius’ office loo. She hung her head as she took deep, calming breaths. She felt like she was going to be sick. She was stuck in an alternate reality. This couldn’t possibly be happening to her. 

Remus wouldn’t help her and she didn’t blame him. It practically went against his religion. Cernunnos obviously meant a lot to him. Asking him to betray that for her -- who he didn’t even know -- was unthinkable.

Her eyes blinked quickly to forestall her tears. They didn’t even know her. They weren’t the Marauders from her world. They looked at her and saw this mark on her forehead. Hermione looked up at the mirror before her, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t see any mark on her face. 

This wasn’t her world. 

Her breath stuttered in her chest. Merlin, what would Harry and Ron think? She wondered how long it would take them before they declared her dead.

A sob was torn from her throat. Hermione crumbled to the ground of the bathroom. She sat on the tiles in a puddle of limbs and yards of black fabric. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried.

It wasn’t fair. After everything she’d been through, it just wasn’t fair. She’d fought in a war. She’d watched her friends die and witnessed her classmates slain. She’d been tortured to the brink of insanity and still… Was this her reward? 

Why her? Out of the infinite number of universes. Why her? Was it just circumstance? Was it a trick of fate? Hermione wondered if Ceronnus had any clue who she even was and the things she’d accomplished. Perhaps she’d simply shown up and he thought it would be funny to play a game. 

Hermione wiped the tears from her cheeks. No. From what the others had said, it didn’t sound like this was some sort of prank. Gods didn’t mark people for no good reason. She was here for a reason and it was a sobering thought. 

She wasn’t abandoning her friends. She was chosen.

The young witch pulled herself to her feet. She saw her tear stained face in the mirror and winced. Her makeup and hair was a mess. It certainly reflected how she felt about the situation. Hermione drew her wand from her dress’ pocket and waved it to clear away the mess on her face. 

She began to french braid her curls back as she continued to worry over her problem. It was a soothing process, one she usually only implemented when she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Staying was a strong possibility and the concept that she was  _ chosen _ for something certainly made the situation easier to swallow. But she wasn’t willing to give up on the possibility of leaving. She wasn’t an idiot, afterall. Sure, having Remus help her would be a benefit, but perhaps she could figure this out for herself. She was  _ Hermione Granger _ . She could figure out interdimensional travel. It might take her awhile, but she was sure she could do it.

Cernunnos’ face flashed through her mind’s eye. The heat of his magic. The intensity of his power. Hermione had never felt anything like it. She’d been there when Voldemort duelled and Harry said the dark wizard’s power had been equal to Dumbledore’s. She’d felt Riddle’s magic and it wasn’t even a drop in a bucket to the power that had thrummed through her when Cernunnos had marked her.

Could she really defy a power as great as that? 

Hermione conjured a red ribbon and tied off the end of her long braid. She turned on the taps of the sink and splashed some cold water onto her cheeks. It felt surreal, honestly. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter. She hadn’t even seen Peter yet. Merlin, she thought and her eyes widened. She really hoped she didn’t immediately try to hex the man. Wormtail had been a rotten excuse for a human being in her world. 

Hermione plucked the hand towel from the counter and patted her face dry. She took another deep, calming breath. It wasn’t really the end of the world, was it? It could certainly be worse, she reasoned. The Marauders were good people in her world and they seemed similar in this one. They obviously wanted to help her. Their desire to help stemmed from a need to please their patron god, of course, but Hermione would take what she could get.

She could have ended up in a world where Voldemort had won. She could have ended up in a world where magic didn’t even exist. At the end of the day, she ought to just count her blessings and hope things didn’t continue to go downhill -- whilst secretly trying to find a way back home for the next indeterminable amount of time.

With that somewhat bleak thought at the forefront of her mind, Hermione exited the bathroom once more. The Marauders were in the same place she’d left them, huddled around the coffee table and law books spread across their laps.

James looked up when Hermione entered back into the office. “Alright?”

She smiled weakly and nodded. “Thank you.” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and sat down beside him again. “Any progress?”

Sirius gestured to James. “Prongs figured out a possible solution. We’re going to claim that your mark makes you… an important figure for our coven.”

Hermione nodded. “Would that be enough?”

“The way I’ll be wording it?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “It should be. But there are some finer points we need to work out as well. Regardless of how integral you are, we’ll need to still prove that you aren’t harmful to the timeline.” He turned to his husband.

Remus picked up a sheaf of parchments. He had a quill in hand. “What’s your full name?”

“Hermione Jane Granger,” she responded calmly.

The quill scratched against the parchment. “Your date of birth and then the exact date you exited your world.”

“September 19, 1979. It was Halloween, 1999 when I went through the door.” 

Remus nodded as he wrote it down. “No time travel was involved, that’s good.”

“Is that possible?”

Remus looked up from his parchment. “Certainly. Not all realities run linearly -- which is a big problem the Wizengamot would kill you over if it arose.” Hermione swallowed thickly. Killing? She should have realized that was on the table. Clearly, she hadn’t gotten that far in her readings yet. “It works in our favour that our worlds move at the same pace.” Hermione nodded quickly. “Blood status?”

She hesitated before admitting, “I’m a muggle-born.” Sirius and James shared a look and Hermione’s stomach twisted. “Is that a problem?”

James shook his head as he rushed to reassure her. “Not necessarily. There are just old pure-blood laws that would have worked in our favour if you’d been Sacred Twenty-Eight or related to an Ancient House.” He tugged on his beard as his eyes flickered back to Sirius. “Regardless, they’ll ask for some sort of proof about her blood status.”

“Why?”

Sirius scowled. “There are some old families that are in trouble with the Wizengamot. They’ll want to make sure you aren’t hiding a connection to them.”

Hermione wondered what the families could have done to garner such ire from the Wizengamot. Perhaps there had been some sort of blood wars in this world as well?

Remus glared down at his parchment paper. “How the bloody hell are we supposed to prove she’s a muggle-born?”

“Well…” All eyes turned to her and Hermione shrank back. “I don’t have proof, exactly. But I do have some rather compelling evidence.” When none of them objected, Hermione extended her right forearm towards James. “There’s a charm.”

James waved his hand over her arm and cast a simple  _ finite _ . His eyes widened and he gasped when he saw the scar that was revealed beneath the magic. Across her forearm and carved in large, child-like writing was the word ‘mudblood.’ Sirius cursed.

James gently grasped Hermione’s wrist. He slid closer on the couch to get a better look. “Who did this to you?” he whispered, horrified.

Tears sprang to Hermione’s eyes as she stared down at the crude, red words. “Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“Lestrange?” Sirius questioned.

She turned her head to him. “Your cousin.” At his blank stare, she raised her eyebrows. “She doesn’t exist here?”

“Not that I know of.”

Hermione frowned. She looked to Remus. “Will that be a problem?”

Remus’ gaze was fixated on her mutilated arm. He blinked and shook his head before turning his attention back to her. “What? No. No, I shouldn’t think so.”

Pain flared in Hermione’s scar. She hissed and, on reflex, tried to jerk her arm away from James. He refused to let go of her wrist but pulled back his probing finger from her scar. He looked up at her with furious hazel eyes. They looked more green than anything at that moment and it was startling how similar he was to Harry in his rage. “We need to get this healed. When did you get this?”

Hermione tugged on her arm but he held fast. “I got it a year and a half ago.” James’ eyes widened. “It was done with a cursed blade. It won’t ever heal properly.” She tugged on her arm again. “Will you  _ please _ ?”

“Oh!” His eyes widened and all his anger about the situation fell away as if it’d never been there in the first place. He released his grip on her wrist and Hermione pulled her arm into her chest. She looked away from him. “Sorry.”

She ignored him. “Is there anything else you need to know?” she asked Remus.

The werewolf made a face. “They’ll likely ask you several questions about your world. We need to make sure that it isn’t anything like ours.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “We fought a war in 1998 to 1999. Did you?”

Sirius’ eyes widened and he released a harsh breath. “Bloody hell, darling, no.”

She shrugged. “Then I think we’re safe. Anything else?”

He shook his head. “I think we should call a Wizengamot meeting. The sooner we do it, the better. We don’t want anyone to claim that we were putting it off for any reason.” He paused before saying, “We think they might also ask you to act in an Awakening Ritual. The mark on your forehead should be proof enough, but they might want it verified before the Wizengamot. It’s been done before, so someone might suggest it -- and if they don’t, we will. Would you be okay with that?”

Hermione’s face pinched. “I’m not exactly sure what that would entail.”

“It’s a fairly simple process,” James explained. “We’re going to have you claim sanctuary with our coven, so I would perform it. There’re candles, some fancy words, a touch of magic, and then we wait and see what happens. If we’re lucky, Cernunnos will give a sign that he chooses you.”

“And if we aren’t lucky?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. No one in that room could argue she had  _ good _ luck. Not with the way her Halloween had gone.

James shrugged, unconcerned. “The mark on your forehead counts as a claim. We’ll ask to perform the ritual to eradicate any form of doubt in their minds. If  _ they _ ask us to perform it, they’re just being difficult.”

Sirius snorted. “Which means they’ll ask.”

Remus glared at him. “We don’t know that for certain.”

James caught Hermione’s eye before rolling his eyes with extreme exaggeration at the bickering couple. She grinned at their antics. James clapped his hands against his thighs and stood. “I’ll floo back to my flat and owl the Head Warlock.” Hermione raised an eyebrow.  _ Head _ Warlock? Not Chief? That was different. “I’ll meet everyone back here once I’m ready for the show.”

Sirius nodded at his friend. “I’m going to finish with the wording on this statement.” He grabbed one of the law books and a parchment before heading for his desk. Remus followed him.

James paused before making for the fireplace. He looked down at Hermione at the edge of her seat. She was still clutching her arm to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

Hermione looked up at him with her big brown eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. James swallowed visibly before nodding at her once and disappearing back through the floo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated every day of Hanukkah so far and there's still five more nights to go 🙄 I don't like this trend, lol. Happy Holidays! We're about to go into lock-down again, so I'm wishing all of you, your friends, and your family health and safety this winter season 🥰 xx


	4. Chapter Three

# 

#  Chapter Three

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the wall outside the Wizengamot. “Are we sure about this?” she asked James. Normally, he would have been inside the courtroom with the other members of the Wizengamot, but as the leader of the coven Hermione was claiming sanctuary with, he needed to be present with her. “I feel like I should be running, not facing them.”

James smirked and turned his head to look down at her. He was far taller than Harry had grown up to be. He and Remus seemed to fight for the tallest human being in every room they entered. “What’s wrong? Don’t you trust the extremely prejudiced old men who run the British Wizarding World?”

Hermione shot him a baleful glare. “I think you just answered your own question.” James laughed. She sighed and leaned her head back.

Only several hours had passed since the Marauders had shown up to help her. She wasn’t so sure their plan would work, but she didn’t know much about covens beyond what they’d told her. She’d spent the last few hours reading up on them and had only learned that there was still a whole lot left to discover. 

People spent their entire lives in dedication to the practice of their coven, Hermione hadn’t even scratched the surface with her quick perusal. She did find herself rather curious as to what coven she’d eventually be inducted into. Staying in this reality meant it would happen sooner rather than later -- and she would have to stay, just so long as it took for her to figure out a way back.

It was an intriguing thought, the idea of delving into a coven and not only because she already bore the mark of a god. Cernunnos was a man’s god and his covens didn’t include women. Sirius had assured her that Artemis would take her in. A goddess of the hunt, virtue, and a champion for those who could not defend themselves. Hermione felt a kinship with Artemis’ tenants. She wouldn’t feel out of place there.

Perhaps all of this would feel less overwhelming when she had a coven to take her in. Remus had sat with her and answered all her questions before he’d gone to inform the Head Unspeakable about what was about to happen. 

A coven was like a family. Beyond the logistics of family magic, covens connected like-minded witches and wizards. It forged bonds between magical people that were unshakeable and profound. 

Hermione had never heard of any magic quite like it. The closest her world had to it was magical marriage bonds and perhaps family magic. She didn’t know much about the latter but had heard it lobbied around the Wizengamot when matters of the Sacred Twenty-Eight arose.

The doors to the Wizengamot opened and Remus slipped through, his Unspeakable hood on once more. He nodded at James. “They’re ready for you.”

Hermione stood up straight and ran her hands down the front of her tulle skirt. She had unbound her hair at Remus’ insistence and the curls spilled over her shoulders and down her back in long ringlets. He’d claimed that normally only younger witches wore their hair down and it would help sway the older men in the Wizengamot to view her as a minor rather than an of-age witch. It was all a game of appearances.

“How do I look?” Hermione asked James with no small amount of nervousness in her voice.

His hazel eyes flickered to her and the word, “Beautiful,” left his mouth without a second of hesitation. Hermione’s cheeks turned pink. James cleared his throat and gestured for her to follow after Remus.

Hermione stepped up to the Wizengamot doors and took a deep breath. She felt James' comforting hand on her back. Gently, he guided her inside and down the long aisle -- with unusually empty pews on either side due to the secrecy and suddenness of today’s gathering -- and towards the main floor of the Wizengamot.

It was bigger. That was the first thing Hermione noticed. This Wizengamot had more seats and was evenly divided down the middle. Whereas the Wizengamot in her world had been made up of only pure-bloods and families of ‘ancient’ origin, this one was clearly more open. She saw only a few female faces dotting the sea of beards. There was clearly some reason for the divide between the right and left sides of the Wizengamot, but whatever that reason happened to be was beyond Hermione. 

At the end of the aisle was a short wooden fence with a swinging gate. Sirius awaited their arrival on the other side, standing tall and regal in his expensive robes. There was a long wooden table behind him, upon which he’d spread out several pieces of parchment and several law books. The proceedings had already begun and Hermione wondered if things were going in her favour.

James opened the gate for her and Hermione stepped through onto the floor of the Wizengamot. The seats of the Wizengamot body were high above the main floor, as they had been set up in her own world. Older faces gazed down on her from either side. In the centre of the divide and made even more distinguished by the singular box that jutted out to contain his seat, was the Head Warlock.

It was not Albus Dumbledore. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised by that fact. Headmaster Dumbledore was dead in her own time. Their own position of Head Warlock had been taken over by a member of the International Confederation of Wizards until a replacement could be found. 

The man sitting in the seat of Head Warlock was not one that she recognized. He was older, though it was hard to tell his exact year with the way magical kind tended to age slowly. He was at the very least middle-aged with curly salt and pepper hair and a dark goatee around his mouth. His eyes were so dark they looked almost black beneath his heavy brows. He was a handsome man, despite the severity of his disposition with high cheekbones and a straight mouth. Hermione wondered how many others she would meet in this world that had never existed in her own.

“Members of the Wizengamot,” Sirius began in a commanding voice that echoed across the vast hall, “might I present to you, Miss. Hermione Granger. She is here today after having been forced against her will through the Door from an alternate reality and she is represented today by myself, as well as Lord James Potter in his position as the Head of the International Coven for Cernunnos.”

Hermione’s head whipped around and she looked up at James with wide eyes. International Coven, she thought incredulously. Was that as important of a title as it sounded?

The Head Warlock sat straight-backed in his seat, black eyes cold and piercing. “Step forward,” he commanded.

Hermione swallowed and did as she was told. She walked until she stood in the centre of the Wizengamot floor. The marble tiles were detailed with a large white pentagram that Hermione knew for a fact was not present in the Wizengamot she remembered. She looked up, surrounded on all sides by unknown faces. Her heart hammered inside her chest. She clenched her fingers into fists to keep them from shaking. 

“Lord Ogden,” the Head Warlock said. His deep voice echoed across the hall, “what are the current standards of procedure for a witch that has illegally entered our world without permission? I’d like for Miss. Granger to be aware as we move forward.”

Lord Ogden stood from his seat on the left-hand side of the Head Warlock. Hermione noted that there was only one witch that sat amongst that side of the Wizengamot. “Head Warlock, the current precedents that have been set for such an infraction range from inclusion into our world, Azkaban, execution, or simply sending her back through the Door.”

The Head Warlock made a sound of interest, his black eyes watching Hermione closely for her reaction to this news. But Hermione had already worked this out with the Marauders and she kept her face perfectly impassive. Inside, her heart was racing. 

“Head Warlock,” Sirius interrupted. He moved to stand beside Hermione and she felt infinitely better, “as I said before, we would like to object to the use of Azkaban and execution on Miss. Granger and instead have it stricken from the list of possible outcomes for today’s proceedings.”

The Head Warlock raised a single, thick brow. A member of the Wizengamot lit their wand and the Head Warlock waved his hand in their direction. “You may speak, Lord Nott.”

Lord Nott stood and Hermione tried not to scowl at the sight of him. He was seated on the left side of the Wizengamot as well. “With all due respect, my lord, but those precedents were put into place for a reason. We have no clue what this witch’s world was like. Perhaps she holds secret knowledge of things to come? We must err on the side of caution when considering threats from alternate realities. There is no reason to remove options set in place to handle such delicate affairs.” 

Murmurs sounded across the Wizengamot. Hermione couldn’t tell if they were in her favour or not.

Another wand lit from the opposite end of the Wizengamot. A witch that Hermione immediately recognized as Augusta Longbottom stood when given permission. “The witch in question is a girl. She barely looks out of school. What harm is she going to bring this world besides sending the various Cernunnos covens into a tizzy?” Hermione blushed at that, remembering that her forehead bore the God of the Hunt’s mark.

The Head Warlock turned back to Sirius. “Under what grounds, Lord Black?”

Sirius gestured to Hermione. “Under the grounds that she has clearly been marked by a god. This is not a normal circumstance of a magical travelling between realities. To put this girl in danger would be an act against the gods.”

A great silence followed Sirius’ statement.

“A bold claim,” the Head Warlock stated. He sounded more amused than anything. He ran a long, pale finger along his jaw as he considered Hermione. “I will consider your objection, Lord Black. But I think further questions must be asked before a decision can be made. It would be foolish of us not to first question whether this girl’s knowledge is a threat,” he said, speaking to the Wizengamot at large. “Once this has been determined, I will feel more comfortable making a decision.”

All eyes turned to Hermione who blanched. 

The Head Warlock raised a piece of parchment on his desk. His eyes scanned it. “Miss. Granger,” he began, “are you willing to take a vow, to tell the truth as you know it to be in today’s proceedings?”

Hermione blinked quickly. She turned to Sirius who was frowning but nodded at her. She turned back to the Head Warlock and swallowed before replying, “I am, Chief -- Head Warlock.”

He raised an eyebrow at her slip. “Good.” He waved his hand. “Lord Ogden.”

The older wizard stood from his seat and headed down a stairwell next to the Head Warlock’s box. He shuffled across the Wizengamot floor and held out a wrinkled hand. “Your hand, miss.” Hermione put her hand in his and he turned it so it sat palm side up. He pressed the tip of his wand to the centre of her palm. “Repeat after me: I vow to speak my truth to the body of the Wizengamot and before the Head Warlock,” he paused and waited for her to repeat his words before continuing, “in every and all the ways that I know it to be for the duration of today’s procedures.”

Hermione swallowed. She slowly but clearly repeated the rest of the words back to Lord Ogden. He’d been a member of the Wizengamot in her world, she knew. He’d retired shortly before her fifth year and died during the Final Year of the war. She couldn’t help but notice that the entire time he spoke with her, his eyes were on her forehead. 

Magic shimmered around her after the vow was made. Lord Ogden stepped back and nodded to the Head Warlock. “It is done, my lord.” He headed back to his seat as the Head Warlock thanked him.

“Your full name and date of birth,” the Head Warlock immediately commanded.

“Hermione Jane Granger,” she responded quickly, “born September 19, 1979.”

“What date did you arrive?”

“With respect, sir,” Sirius cut in before Hermione could respond, “but the answers to these questions have been provided.”

The Head Warlock’s eyes snapped to Sirius. “I am well aware of what information has been provided to my person. These facts must also be verified and relayed to the Wizengamot, if that’s alright with you, Lord Black?” Sirius’ jaw clenched but otherwise, he didn’t respond. “Answer the question, Miss. Granger.”

“I arrived late last night. Likely around midnight.” There was a small murmur from the Wizengamot that didn’t surprise Hermione. It was Halloween yesterday, which everyone knew was a powerful day full of the old magic.

“Blood status?”

“Muggle-born,” Hermione replied in a small voice. There was no rumbling of annoyance from the Wizengamot, but several members scowled or visibly rolled their eyes. 

The Head Warlock raised an eyebrow at her. “You seem concerned about your answer, Miss. Granger.”

Hermione took a calming breath. “I - yes, sir. I suppose I am. Blood purity in my world was something that wars have been fought over.” She glanced around the room. “And I’ve been informed that there are certain families here that some would lie to not be a part of?”

He nodded at her words. “We find ourselves in the midst of a political conflict. Your presence is ill-timed.” Hermione winced. “Lord Black, as I’m sure you're well aware, the truth spell can be circumvented.” He glanced at the parchment in his hand. “What is this compelling proof of yours that proves Miss. Granger’s birth status?”

Sirius stepped up beside her in the pentagram. He glanced at Hermione before he cleared his throat. “Miss. Granger bears a cursed scar on her arm that she received in her world. It would be rather improbable that she would ever put it there, especially considering its meaning.”

The Head Warlock’s eyes turned to Hermione. “The scar?”

Hermione’s lips trembled as she extended her arm towards him. It was easily visible to everyone on the right side of the Wizengamot and they collectively gasped in horror. 

“How did you get it?” he asked. 

Hermione shivered at the curiosity in his tone. He wasn’t the least bit horrified. “A dark witch -- Bellatrix -- gave it to me. I’ve been told she doesn’t exist in this world.”

“And blood purity was so important in your world that this witch felt the need to brand you with your station?”

Hermione flinched. She glared up at him. “It’s not my station. It’s a vulgar slur and it was done to me not because it was necessary but because she was trying to torture me.”

The Head Warlock’s face remained impassive. “My apologies,” he murmured. Hermione pulled her arm into her chest and looked down. She did not like this wizard at all. “You are right, though. I don’t know any Bellatrix.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are there any other notable differences in people between our worlds? How about your counsel and Lord Potter?”

Hermione glanced sidelong at Sirius who looked unconcerned. He knew they had a history. Her head turned to see James on the perimeter of the pentagram. His eyes met hers and she could tell it was taking everything in him not to join her and Sirius in the pentagram. She licked her lips as she turned back to the Head Warlock. “They exist in my world,” she slowly revealed.

“Are they the same here as they are there?”

“No.”

“Explain.”

Hermione’s shoulders sagged. She didn’t want to talk about that. “Well, I never met Lord Potter in my world.”

“Then how can you be sure he’s not the same?” He raised a challenging eyebrow at her.

She pursed her lips. “He died at 21.” Hermione heard James’ sharp intake of breath at her words. She winced, wishing she’d have mentioned it to him earlier but she really hadn’t been expecting it to ever come up. “And… and Sirius is gone as well.” 

“But you knew him,” the Head Warlock pointed out. “You called Lord Black by name.”

Hermione turned to Sirius who smiled kindly. He patted her back. “It’s fine, kitten. Just tell them anything you know.”

She nodded. “I saved Sirius’ life when I was thirteen. We knew each other for a few years before he fell in battle.”

“Battle?” a member of the Wizengamot squawked.

She looked around the Wizengamot and addressed them at large as she said, “A war just ended in my world only a year ago now. It began in late 1995 and ended in 1998. Sirius Black -- of my world -- died in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.” 

Sirius took control of the conversation once more. “I think it’s safe to say that the people in this world don’t follow the same path that they had in Miss. Granger’s.” There were murmurs of agreement.

“Yes,” the Head Warlock agreed at length, “but I must confess myself intrigued. Are there any faces in this Wizengamot you don’t recognize at all?”

“Yes, sir.” At the obvious interest in the older wizard’s face, she said, “Yours.”

The man smiled in amusement as titters sounded around the room. Hermione blushed. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together on his desk. “Well, let me apologize for my obstinacy, Miss. Granger,” he replied acerbically and the Wizengamot laughed, “and let me introduce myself. I am Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle of the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt and Head Warlock of the Wizengamot.”

An ice-cold fear gripped Hermione’s heart. She visibly tensed at the wizard’s introduction. Head Warlock Riddle eyed her with obvious interest as he watched her process who he was. “Something tells me you might know who I am now.”

She frantically shook her head. “Not - not personally,” Hermione choked out. Her eyes immediately dropped from his gaze. Voldemort was a master of legilimency, after all. She didn’t want him thinking she had any relevant information about him. She turned frantic eyes on Sirius. 

Sirius took the cue and spoke up again. “I’d like to, once more, push to have the possibilities of execution or Azkaban stripped from the list of possible outcomes from today’s events.”

Tom Riddle nodded. “Sustained.” He turned to Lord Ogden. “Make a note of it in the proceedings, please, Lord Ogden.” The old wizard nodded before his quill scratched across a long scroll of parchment. 

Hermione allowed herself a sigh of relief. She wasn’t going to die. That was… an improvement. In light of the revelation that Tom Riddle ran this world’s Wizengamot, it felt like a paltry win. 

“At this time,” Sirius said, “we’d like to suggest that Miss. Granger be approved to live in this world as it is obviously the will of the gods.”

Tom Riddle nodded. “The mark on her forehead, you mean.”

“Yes, sir.”

Riddle raised one of his dark brows at Hermione. “How did you come to receive this mark, Miss. Granger?”

Hermione swallowed. Her face was pale. The Head Warlock had been intimidating before, but now he looked like all her nightmares come to life. Tom Riddle -- alive and well. It was unthinkable. 

“I - I was in the Department of Mysteries. It was Halloween and I shouldn’t have been there, but it was urgent and… I could feel that I wasn’t alone. I was guided to the Rem Room -- which unlocked of its own accord -- and was compelled to enter the room. Once inside, a horned man appeared before me. He filled me with magic and kissed my forehead before pushing me back through the Door.”

Silence greeted her rushed story. Even Tom Riddle appeared affected. 

“And you found the mark after?”

She shook her head. “I can’t see it.”

“Miss. Granger,” Sirius quickly interjected, “hasn’t undergone an Awakening Ritual. She isn’t able to see the magical signs of the gods. They… don’t worship gods in her world.”

A wand lit on the right side of the Wizengamot. A man Hermione didn’t recognize stood. “We can’t know for certain this mark didn’t appear before her trip here if she has no knowledge of it otherwise.”

Another wand lit on the left side and a tall man that Hermione thought might have been Lord Rowle stood. “The mark on her head is the mark of Cernunnos, a horned god. His kissing her forehead before she was sent here makes it quite obvious that she was chosen. We can’t pretend otherwise.”

Eyes turned to Lord Riddle. He rested his chin in his hand as he studied Hermione. “You’re both right. The gods deserve our respect, but we also cannot presume to know their plans. More importantly, if she is chosen by Cernunnos, a whole new wealth of problems arise. She cannot be inducted into a male coven. Correct me if I’m wrong, Lord Potter, but your coven does not include women.”

James finally joined Hermione and Sirius at the centre of the Wizengamot floor. His hand spread across her back and she sucked in a breath, not having even realized that she was in desperate need of one. 

“You’re correct, Head Warlock, but I don’t wish to induct Hermione into our ranks. I’d like her to be considered as sacred amongst our coven, but not a member of it. Since Hermione has not undergone her Awakening Ritual, I thought it might be prudent to lead her through it as a form of acceptance into our world. A god or goddess should make their claim on her magic known.”

Tom Riddle stared down at the three of them for a long, tense moment. He nodded. “Alright. Lord Potter, you will perform an Awakening Ritual here, before the body of the Wizengamot. If she is accepted by a god or goddess into their coven, she will remain here. If no god or goddess claims Miss. Granger, she will be sent back through the Door.” Sirius and James both tensed on either side of Hermione. Those were high stakes. Riddle raised his eyebrows at Hermione. “Do you understand, Miss. Granger?”

She nodded shakily. “I do, sir.”

Tom Riddle waved his hand at the three of them. “Clear the floor, Lord Black. You may begin when you are ready, Lord Potter.”

Hermione turned to James, her entire body practically vibrating with nervous energy. She couldn’t help but feel that things would not go in her favour with Riddle here. It was a bad omen to see him in a position of power. Perhaps she could just ask to be sent back through the Door before going through all of this?

“Hey,” James took her hands into his own, much larger ones. They were rough and the pads of his fingers were calloused. He’d played Quidditch in her world. Had he played it here as well? “It’s going to be okay,” he soothed.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly whispered as she shook her head. “I should have warned you about… well… my world’s you.”

He squeezed her hands. The corner of his mouth quirked in an almost smile. “It’s alright. It’s a surprise, but… it’s fine.” He nodded at her. “You’re going to do great, Hermione.”

She took a deep breath and nodded back. He guided her away from the centre of the Wizengamot floor before drawing his wand. Hermione watched as the pentagram on the marble floor lit with a magical glow. A white circle appeared around the first and then the space between them was filled with ancient runes of various religions. Hermione couldn’t help her curiosity as she slowly walked the perimeter of the pentagram that James created. 

She read each rune and noted their origins. Runes from countries across each continent were represented. As the last symbol was added, the white markings and the marble pentagram all glowed gold. Hermione stepped back in shock. Everything slowly faded back to white again.

Hermione bent down along the edge of the pentagram and her hand hovered over the runes. She could feel a thrum of magic from them. Her eyes fluttered shut. It was familiar. Cernunnos. It was his magic that the circle was shrouded in. It felt so similar to the power that had poured through her when he’d kissed her forehead. She could feel the mark on her forehead burn in response.

“Hermione.”

Her eyes flew open again and she found James hovering before her, a worried look on his face. “Your mark was glowing,” he told her.

Hermione’s cheeks burned. She snatched her hand away from the pentagram. “It’s his magic in the circle. I can feel it..”

James licked his lips. “It’s my magic,” he corrected her. “When a god chooses you, it doesn’t mean they like you or see potential in you. It means your magic resonates with them. The more connected you are to your god, the more powerful magic you can perform within your coven.” Hermione wondered just how connected someone had to be to become the head of a coven -- let alone an international one like James.

He held out his hand and she placed hers in it without hesitation. James helped her back to her feet. White pillar candles sat at each point of the star and were already lit. He squeezed her hand. 

“Ready?”

Her forehead tingled and her magic fluttered in her chest like a butterfly’s wings. For better or worse, her path was about to change forever.

“Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> Fun Fact: The difference of "Head" Warlock rather than "Chief" Warlock was birthed solely from the fact that I completely forgot it was supposed to be Chief and wrote the whole scene with Head, instead 🤷🏽♀️ 
> 
> Thanks for reading! xx


	5. Chapter Four

# 

#  Chapter Four

Hermione stood barefoot in the centre of the pentagram. Five objects had been placed before her. A bowl of water, a metal basin filled with soil, a glass bottle that contained an endless wind charm, a bluebell flame, and a white crystal. They represented the five elements. James had explained that whichever element she was attuned with would be the one they used to open her magical senses. 

Hermione would be lying if she said she wasn’t terrified. It sounded terribly distressing to be opened up to a whole new avenue of magic. She would have normally been excited and eager, but she hadn’t researched it. She didn’t know anything about the ritual or what the changes would be like. She didn’t even know if there were ways this could go wrong. 

Was it like a medical procedure, in which people could have adverse reactions? What if because she was from another reality, she was an entirely different species? This might not even work for her. But she supposed, if that was the case, she would simply end up being thrown back through the Door and on to a new reality. 

Hermione took a calming breath. She glanced at James who was the only other person also within the circle. 

He’d removed his wizarding robes to reveal a crisp white shirt and a grey waistcoat with a thin black tie. He’d rolled the sleeves up on his surprisingly muscular arms to reveal a dark tattoo on his right forearm. She shouldn’t see what it was, but it wrapped around the circumference of his arm and disappeared up under his sleeve. 

His feet were bare beneath his fitted trousers. Hermione mentally shook herself from her blatant study of him. He’d said to use him as a focal point, but she thought he’d meant it in a less desirous manner. 

Hermione nodded. She could do this. She was Hermione Granger, Harry’s voice whispered in her mind encouragingly. She could do anything.

“I’m going to start the ritual,” he told her in a low voice. “We’ll call on the gods to bear witness and we’ll honour the five elements. You’ll interact with the elements here,” he gestured to the items on the floor of their magical circle. “Just follow your instincts,” he reminded her. 

They’d already discussed how this would go before the Wizengamot session had begun, but she appreciated it nonetheless. “Interact with the items however which way your magic guides you. Then we’ll use your chosen element to open your magical pathways.” 

Hermione pursed her lips as she released another calming breath. “I’m ready,” she breathed.

James moved to stand directly in front of her. He raised his arms and stood with his head back and his palms facing skyward. “Great gods and goddesses, I, Lord James Fleamont Potter, Head of the International Coven of Cernunnos, summon you! I honour you and know that I am one amongst all things on earth and skies. My families are trees and grass of plains, animals and stones of seas and lands. Freshwaters and deserts, created by you, and so I am in you as you are in me.”

Hermione watched James with wide eyes. She could feel his magic rolling off of him. It was palpable. She could practically taste it on her tongue. A shiver ran down her spine as gooseflesh rose up along her arms and the back of her neck.

He opened his eyes and turned his attention to her. He nodded to signal it was her part now and for a terrible moment, Hermione couldn’t speak. She was petrified. She couldn’t do this. She hadn’t researched this! This was madness. Just send her back through the bloody Door.

James’ fingers curled around her hand. She looked up at him, her heart racing in her chest. He nodded again with warm hazel eyes. 

Hermione swallowed despite the dryness of her voice. “I summon you,” she began quietly, her voice trembling. James’ fingers tightened their hold. She felt his magic and it resonated deep within her -- somewhere that Cernunnos’ magic had touched. She drew strength from his presence and started again. 

“I summon you,” she called out in a louder voice, “to fulfill my request. I know and accept the witch’s creed.” James smiled encouragingly for her to continue. “Allow me to join my nature with all things as I begin and embark on this magical journey.”

James touched her other hand and tapped the bottom of her right palm, directing it upward.

Hermione took the hint and followed his direction, remembering his earlier instruction. She kissed her right palm before raising it high into the air. “My goddesses and my gods, know me, Hermione Jane Granger. I stand before you and dedicate myself to your honour. I shall protect this magic inside of me and will seek your protection for myself. I accept and will always honour the goddesses and gods who stand before me -- the witches and wizards, long past, who stand at my back. So be it!”

Magic thrummed in the circle around them. Hermione gasped as the white pentagram lit with a bright glow. The candles at each point levitated a meter into the air. The magic in the circle was raw and powerful. It was the raw energy of the earth, she thought and wondered how she knew that with such confidence. 

James let go of her hand and turned. He walked around the five elemental objects and stood across from her on the other side. “The gods welcome you into their circle,” he intoned. Hermione felt her magical core pulsate in her chest in response to his words. She could feel eyes on her and they weren’t the eyes of the Wizengamot. 

They were the same eyes as the ones from the Department of Mysteries. The gods were among them. She could feel them. If she reached her fingers out, she thought she might even be able to touch one. 

James gestured to the elemental objects. “Choose the path that magic has ordained for you, witch.”

Hesitantly, Hermione took a step towards the objects. She felt immediately drawn to the bluebell flame first. It was one of her favourite spells and one of the first ones she’d learned to use wandlessly. She knelt down before the blue ball of fire. Her hands cupped beneath the little ball of light. The flame immediately burned brighter. It leapt a foot in height, spitting angrily.

Hermione fell back with a cry. She released the flame and only a quick spell from James stopped it from shooting straight out of the circle. Her eyes darted up to James as her heart hammered inside her chest once more. He shot her a comforting look. He nodded towards the rest of the objects.

A little dejected, Hermione swung her legs under her as she repositioned herself. She knelt before the five objects. Fire was apparently not her element. She glanced at the white crystal that represented spirit and immediately dismissed it. The glass bottle filled with the wind charm, while pretty, didn’t resonate with her in any way.

Just follow your instincts, James had said.

She turned to the metal basin. It had been filled to the brim with soil. Hermione shuffled closer to it before unceremoniously shoving her hand into the soil. She’d always loved the feeling of potting soil on her hands. She didn’t have the green thumb that Neville did, but she’d always enjoyed the feeling of the earth between her fingers and the sand between her toes.

Hermione could feel her magic reach out to mingle with the energy of the earth. The two magics meshed well, she could tell. The feeling of the soil in her hands grounded her mentally. Things weren’t flying around her head anymore, moving a mile a minute. The world stilled and so did her mind. Time lulled to bask in the cool safety of the earth’s magic. 

It was lovely, but something was missing. Hermione turned her head towards the wooden bowl filled with clear water.

Of course, she thought.

She picked up the bowl, her hands still thinly coated in soil, and held it in her lap. Her finger dipped into the cool water and all her anxiety fell away. She felt calm for the first time since she fell through the Door. 

An audible sigh released Hermione. 

She felt emotionally stable, but now she lacked the mentally grounding magic of the earth. Hermione looked up from the water to the soil.

Oh, she thought, feeling like she should have known what to do from the start. It was so obvious.

Hermione rose up on her knees and poured the water into the soil. Things can’t grow without water, she thought. She stood and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear with her dirt-stained fingers. Her eyes didn’t stray from the pot of soil and water. Her attention was quickly rewarded as a green sprout poked through the dirt. It rose up, growing and stretching upwards as it quickly formed from a sprout to a stalk. 

More stalks formed. Thin green shoots clumped together and long, thin leaves soon joined. Finally, the plant began to form buds. It was nearly at Hermione’s waist when the buds burst into bloom. The ends of the stalks turned a light purple colour. Lavender.

Hermione smiled widely. She loved the scent of lavender. She leaned forward and closed her eyes as she breathed in the strong, calming scent. Hermione turned her pleased smile on James. The wizard looked at a complete loss. 

Hermione stood up straight. “Did I do it wrong?”

“No,” he immediately said. “No, I just…”

He came around the lavender bush and guided her back to the centre of the circle. Hermione waited patiently as James went back to the lavender. He turned his attention to Riddle -- who was still seated in his Wizengamot seat -- and the two shared a long look. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Lord Riddle looked exceedingly amused.

James waved his wand and summoned a mortar and pestle. His wand snipped the ends of the lavender, which fell into the mortar. A small spell later and he had a little bowl filled with crushed lavender.

James returned to his position in front of Hermione with his mortar of lavender in hand. “Hands out,” he instructed her in a quiet voice.

Hermione followed his direction. A wave of his magic scourgified the dirt from her hands. He piled a bit of crushed lavender in each palm. Some lavender was pressed to the crown of her head. His thumbs, also covered in the flower, touched her closed eyelids. Finally, he pressed the lavender to the centre of her chest and her magical core thumped in response.

“By the will of the gods,” he intoned in the same deep voice he’d used when beginning the Awakening Ritual, “and the goddesses, I release their ether into your magic.”

Hermione gasped.

Magic flooded her entire body. The power from her magical core spread out from the centre of her chest and raced through her veins until it reached every inch of her body. Her hands tingled like they’d lost circulation. She felt lightheaded and dizzy. Her eyes burned as if she’d been up for days without sleep.

Hermione winced as the effects all swirled together. Her stomach twisted. 

A pressure of magic smoothed against her magical aura and eased her symptoms. Hermione shivered visibly. The power touching her aura was strong, vengeful, and yet extremely loving. Hermione yearned to lean into the magic, to let it surround her in all its power and glory. It felt soothing and grounding like the magic of the earth and water elements. It felt... feminine. It was the magic of a goddess.

A foreign bubble of power rose up within her. Hermione's brows drew together. The foreign magic was from within her and she immediately knew it wasn't her own power. Cernunnos, she realized. It was the magic he'd left in her when he'd marked her.

The feminine power pushing in on Hermione's magical aura vibrated angrily. Hermione's hair stood on end. Cernunnos' bubble of magic pushed back against the female goddess' claim. The two forces of energy struggled back and forth with Hermione at their centre. She thought she might be sick. 

The feminine energy swirled around her form in thick white smoke. It covered her feet before slowly crawling up her body along her legs and torso. The magic gripped her torso in a tight vice, trying to find a way in that wasn't blocked by Cernunnos' magic.

Hermione stretched taller and her eyes sprang open as her panic began to overwhelm her. She stared up at James, her distress palpable.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered to her. “You chose this magic because it’s already in you. Let it come home.”

Hermione shook her head. It wasn't the magic that scared her. It was the all out battle that was about to be raged with her as the battlefield. The goddess' magic was turning into a cold fury against her body and Cernunnos' was remaining completely unmoved. She didn’t want this to happen. She felt like she was about to be torn apart. Her entire body felt like it was being squeezed in a vice and simultaneously broken open. She gasped for breath and the goddess' magic dove within her. 

Hermione screamed.

Her cries echoed through the halls of the Wizengamot. The white magic slipped from her body and filled her mouth, dived down her throat, and crashed through Cernunnos' power like a thin wall of film. The goddess' power spread across every inch of her insides. She felt it swirl in the pit of her stomach, burn against her breastbone, and pinch the tips of her toes. Tears streamed down her face.

She dragged in a rabid gasp of breath as the final wisps of magic entered her body. Her eyes rolled back and she fell into a dead faint.

James caught her and took a knee. He pushed her curls from her tanned face. 

“Sh…” a feminine voice soothed. Olive skinned fingers that gently glowed with an ethereal light gently touched Hermione’s forehead. James looked up and swallowed his gasp of shock at the sight of the goddess bent before him.

She was the most beautiful creature James had ever seen. Dark hair was piled up on her head in intricate braids and blue strips of cloth. Dark eyes and long lashes sat above high cheekbones on her square face. Full lips pursed gently as she hummed a soothing lullaby. She was clad in flowing Grecian robes, but not in the style James had been expecting.

Whoever this goddess was, she was not Artemis.

“Goddess,” he greeted in a hoarse voice.

He’d never seen a god or goddess before. In his dreams, sometimes. While he vision walked, rarely. But in person? Never. The gods rarely showed themselves before mortals and certainly not before the entire Wizengamot.

The goddess looked up and her dark eyes pinned him with a fierce intensity. The hazy glow around her did not match the steeliness of her gaze. She looked soft and loving, but her eyes gleamed with the fierceness of a woman willing to murder if she chose to.

“Unhand her,” the immortal being hissed.

James placed Hermione on the marble floor and scrambled back away from the irate goddess. He raised his hands in supplication.

“Forgive my impudence,” he rushed out.

She narrowed her eyes on him and James felt the earth thrum angrily beneath his feet.

Hermione moaned as she slowly came awake. 

The goddess’ eyes softened as she turned her attention back to Hermione. “Wake up, daughter.” Her fingers brushed the outline of a half-moon and star above it that marked Hermione’s forehead.

Angry magic vibrated in the air around them. James shivered in fear. 

There was nothing worse than incurring the wrath of the gods and this goddess was furious.

Hermione’s lashes fluttered and her eyes hazily opened. They widened the moment she spotted the glowing goddess that knelt above her.

“Stand,” the goddess ordered in a deep voice. “You are stronger than this.” In a shimmer of magic, the goddess was on her feet, towering above the young witch.

Hermione swallowed thickly. She bit back the groan of pain as she moved her heavy limbs. Her entire body was sore. Every muscle ached. No one had mentioned it would be like this. James hadn’t even warned her. 

She painfully pulled herself to her feet and stood before the towering goddess. Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out. What was one meant to say to a goddess? Hadn’t Remus said that the gods rarely ever appeared during this ritual? What was she supposed to do?

Nothing, apparently, as the goddess had plans of her own.

She turned in the pentagram with narrowed eyes and hissed, “Cernunnos.” 

The air wavered on the edge of the pentagram and Cernunnos stepped into the circle, the same as he’d looked to Hermione on Halloween. Impossibly tall, muscled, and with a set of large, protruding antlers coming from his forehead. He was naked save for the leather loincloth around his hips and a torc at his throat.

James gasped and stumbled back. Hermione’s eyes widened.

The Horned One pressed a fist to his heart and bowed deeply to the goddess. “Mother Goddess,” he greeted reverently. He looked up and his wide, stag-like eyes glittered as he smiled charmingly. “Gaia, you look as beautiful as you did the day I was born into existence.”

“I should kill you where you stand,” she seethed. She stormed towards him and the earth shook with each step. “How dare you lay hands on my daughter!”

Thunder rumbled so loudly that Hermione looked up as she covered her ears, fully expecting to see storm clouds in the domed ceiling of the Wizengamot. None appeared, but lightning crackled in the air as if they had.

“It was an accident,” Cernunnos implored.

Gaia raised a dark brow. “Lie to me again and I will kill your Stag.”

Hermione’s eyes shot to James who had paled dramatically. Her heart pounded inside her chest. She inched towards him. Gaia’s head snapped around to her and pinned her with a venomous glare. Hermione tensed and immediately stepped back to the centre of the circle. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. They visibly shook with fear.

Gaia turned her attention back to the Horned One. “You’ve betrayed me,” she intoned.

“I never meant to do so.”

Gaia scoffed loudly. "And what exactly were you trying to do while I claimed my daughter? She belongs to me. You dare to intercede on my rights?" 

He raised his hands in supplication. "I merely did not want the mark I gave her to disappear forever."

The earth trembled. Gaia was not pleased with that answer. She turned and with a glow of magic, stood before James. Her hand was only a second from touching his chest when Hermione shouted, “No!”

The air around the Wizengamot stilled in the silence that followed. She felt the hidden magical eyes of hundreds of gods as they stood outside the pentagram turn to stare at her with intense scrutiny. She couldn’t see them, but she could feel their power. She knew they were watching. 

Gaia slowly turned to stare at her with a blank expression on her beautiful face. “No?”

Hermione trembled. “Please, don’t,” she whispered.

Gaia shifted away from James, but that fact did not ease Hermione’s anxiety. The goddess’ attention was now fully trained on Hermione and she couldn’t help but think this was all going to end poorly for her. 

“You object to my move for justice?”

There was a lilt to the goddess’ voice that made Hermione think there was hidden meaning under those words. The goddess was laying a trap, but Hermione had no idea what that trap would involve.

She licked her lips nervously. “I - it’s not justice. It’s a punishment.” She glanced between the goddess and James’ wide, horrified gaze. “He didn’t do anything.”

A tense, silent moment passed.

Gaia’s expression turned soft and she graced Hermione with a small smile. “You’re right. But the fact remains the same that a great injustice has been put upon you.”

She walked towards Hermione and rested heavy hands on Hermione’s shoulders. The same magic that had been pressing against her only minutes ago seeped from the goddess before her. Hermione felt it drip off of Gaia’s hands like water. Hermione’s magic sang as like met like. 

“No one,” Gaia intoned, “is allowed to touch my children. You’ve been torn from your path and set loose in the midst of a deep, dark ocean.”

“She needs an anchor,” Cernunnos whispered as he edged closer to the two women. “Someone who will keep her safe in this world.”

Gaia’s head tilted as she considered the Horned One’s words.

Hermione’s eyes widened in horror. “Send me home.” Gaia turned her dark eyes back to the witch. “Please, just send me home,” she pleaded. Her eyes teared. 

“I don’t like to interfere with the affairs of mortals,” Gaia murmured. “My coming here was only so that the foolish men wouldn’t hurt you. But Cernunnos' interference in the claiming and the sight of his mark on you enraged me.” She shook her head. “I care only for you in this, my daughter.”

“Then send me home,” she cried. Her tears slipped down her cheeks. “I don’t belong here.”

“Fate is not for me to decide,” the goddess replied in a gentle voice. A choked sob escaped Hermione.

“I consulted with a hand of Fate,” Cernunnos said into the silence that followed. Gaia turned her head in his direction. The god hesitantly drew closer. “I asked Moirai what would become of your daughter if she were to meet my Stag. I knew she’d be safe here.”

Gaia narrowed her eyes. “Did you?”

“I seek only the happiness of my Stag, the same that you seek for your daughter. He is devout, intelligent, powerful. He would provide everything she dares dream of.” Hermione’s brows drew together. What the hell were they talking about? Provide? “He’d give her more than just a few paltry children. She would be fully immersed in the glory of your maternal magic.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in realization. She opened her mouth, but a wave of magic flicked across her and no sound was uttered when she spoke. Her eyes narrowed on the god. He’d silencioed her! 

Gaia either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She turned to look over her shoulder at James. “Come,” she commanded. James stumbled a step before righting himself. He came to stand beside Hermione. “What is it you asked from your god?”

Hermione glared up at him, furious that no one was helping her. He swallowed visibly and said, “For a partner in life and in magic. I wanted an equal.”

Gaia stared at him coldly. Hermione’s eyes teared in betrayal. He’d asked Cernunnos for this? He’d summoned Cernunnos to find him a partner and that’s why she was here? 

James' hazel eyes met her own. Hermione’s lips quivered as she fought back her tears. “I wanted someone to share a life with,” he revealed quietly, still staring at her in silent apology. Hermione looked away.

Gaia directed her attention back to Hermione. She raised her hands to cup Hermione’s cheeks and pressed a soft kiss against the mark on her forehead. Hermione’s eyes squeezed shut, but the power that flowed through her wasn’t as terrifying as Cernunnos’ had been. Her magical core swelled as Gaia’s now-familiar magic melted into her. A soothing warmth settled over her body. 

The goddess pulled back and rubbed her thumb along the changed mark. Where only an outline had been, the moon and star were now filled with a flowery design. Gaia smiled with satisfaction.

“Please,” Hermione whispered, Cernunnos’ spell having been cancelled when her body was flooded with Gaia’s magic. She shook her head. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to stay here.

“I do not interfere with Fate,” Gaia told her seriously. “You are here and this is where you will remain.” Hermione’s face crumpled as her tears fell once more. “My duty is to ensure your happiness and safety.” Without another word, she took James’ hand and joined it with Hermione’s. She held their hands together between her own. 

“I bless this union,” she declared. “May it grow as strong as an oak. May it move with the ancient waters of the Nile. May it blossom like an eternal rose.”

Cernunnos placed his own hands over Gaia’s. “I bless this union. May it be free and fulfilled as the animals of the forest. May it be strong as the fiercest predator and as warm as a mother bear’s love for her cubs.” A slow smile spread across his lips. “May new life spring from it with overflowing consistency.”

Their ball of hands glowed with the power of the gods. 

Hermione gasped as her magic shot down her arm and met James’ own. Their powers swirled together like a pool of water before his magic ran up the underside of her arm along her own thread of energy and straight back to her magical core. Her core burned brightly for a long moment as the bond solidified.

Cernunnos and Gaia stepped back. The powerful goddess turned her unforgiving eyes on James. “I’ll be watching you,” she warned.

James swallowed and nodded quickly. She turned back to Hermione who still had tears slowly flowing down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide in disbelief. What had just happened didn’t register in her mind. That was impossible. It was all a terrible dream. 

“You’ll lead my coven on this world as the High Priestess.”

Hermione shook her head. That registered in her mind, clear as a bell. “What? I don’t know how!” she protested.

Gaia narrowed her eyes and Hermione’s jaw snapped shut. “You’ll learn.”

Hermione stared at the immortal being, betrayal in her gaze. There’d been hope just minutes ago that perhaps she could still get home -- not right away, but years from now, surely. In a matter of seconds, all of that had been shattered. Gaia was only driving the point home now. 

A magical binding with James was more than enough to force her to stay here. She couldn’t leave her magical spouse behind in another reality. Putting Hermione in a position in Gaia’s coven -- as the High Priestess no less -- was cementing her place in that reality. She was not a traveller. She was not a visitor. Hermione was a permanent resident of her new world and it was here that she would forever remain.

“You will be inducted under the next new moon,” Gaia informed her. “I will see you again then.”

Hermione looked down with an angry frown on her face. James squeezed her hand in warning. She swallowed down her fury and muttered, “... I’m honoured.”

Gaia smirked. She placed a heavy hand on Hermione’s head. “I will be with you, daughter, always.” Despite the circumstances, the words brought comfort to Hermione’s sad soul. Her magic resonated with the goddess’ words. 

Gaia faded away in a ball of warm, golden light. 

Cernunnos remained. He placed a hand on James’ shoulder and squeezed it gently. The wizard stared at him with wide, reverent eyes. “Do me proud, Stag.” James nodded, at a loss for words. The god turned to Hermione and smirked. She narrowed her eyes in return. “Little bunny.” He leaned down and whispered, “I will tell your friends what’s happened.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“You will?”

He blinked his dark, animal-like eyes. “I am a god of my people. It would not do well to anger my High Priest’s bride. They will be told and given your love. I swear it.”

Hermione’s eyes burned with unshed tears. Her heart ached for her friends. She nodded, unable to speak.

“No ‘thank you?’” he questioned. “Perhaps I shall take it in another form.” Cernunnos tucked his fingers under her chin and lifted her head. He smirked as his eyes slanted towards her lips. Hermione released a small gasp.

Thunder clapped above them. 

Cernunnos jumped back, arms raised in surrender. “Can you blame a god for trying?” he laughed as he stepped out of the circle and shimmered away. Thunder roared again before the ominous pressure dissipated from the air entirely. 

Hermione blinked quickly as a hazy fog she hadn’t even realized was surrounding them lifted away. The room came back into view and she was greeted with the wide, disbelieving, and horrified eyes of the Wizengamot. 

Hermione’s stomach sank. She turned and looked down at her hand clasped tightly inside of James’. They were… they were married. She physically recoiled at the thought and their hands broke apart.

She didn’t look at anyone as she turned and ran from the hall.

“Hermione!” James called after her. 

She slammed through the doors of the Wizengamot and fled without a backwards glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heads up for you all, I have a one-shot coming out on the 30th for a challenge that is very in the same vein as this story and also a Jamione. So, keep an eye out for that! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! xx


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